deepundergroundpoetry.com

Smile now, oh mule, I pray thee ride me not;

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Smile now, oh mule, I pray thee ride me not; � �
nor ply my foolish self with throb or ache. � �
Do you not play with me (so soon forgot), � �
And laugh at me, not with, you selfish rake? � �
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Who loveth thee that I make here as penned, � �
The one you clown, who fatedly grows fond. � �
Nay, if you laugh, then you must beg to spend, � �
While I lament our convoluted bond. � �
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What merit does to mine own self respect, � �
Is not so keen (though manly spirits rise), � �
When all my best doth worship thy defect: � �
No ears, no mouth, no tongue, just wicked eyes. � �
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But mule, my love, you must not hold me blind; � �
Our paths, though filled with jest, are fast entwined. � �
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