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I Bended Unto Me A Bough of May

    I bended unto me a bough of May,
    That I might see and smell:
    It bore it in a sort of way,
    It bore it very well.
    But, when I let it backward sway,
    Then it were hard to tell
    With what a toss, with what a swing,
    The dainty thing
    Resumed its proper level,
    And sent me to the devil.
    I know it did—you doubt it?
    I turned, and saw them whispering about it.

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Comments


  • December 4, 2003
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    i like poems that rhyme, and i think this was such a great poem. Well done Sir Thomas!!