Richard Lovelace
London / England
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A Mock Song

Rating: 2.8
Now Whitehall's in the grave,
And our head is our slave,
The bright pearl in his close shell of oyster;
Now the miter is lost,
The proud Praelates, too, crost,
And all Rome's confin'd to a cloister.
He, that Tarquin was styl'd,
Our white land's exil'd,
Yea, undefil'd;
Not a court ape's left to confute us;
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Khairul Ahsan 10 August 2020
'Now the sun is unarm'd, And the moon by us charm'd, All the stars dissolv'd to a jelly; Now the thighs of the Crown And the arms are lopp'd down, And the body is all but a belly' - I am greatly amused!
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Deepak Kumar Pattanayak 10 August 2020
This is all about a ruler ruling his subjects how efficiently, iron handedly, single handedly, effectively depicted here with outstanding words.........brilliantly crafted......10+++
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Mahtab Bangalee 10 August 2020
our head is our slave...beautiful mock song
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Ratnakar Mandlik 10 August 2019
" All Rome confined to a cloister" A beautifully envisioned classic worthy of the classic poem of the Day.
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Kumarmani Mahakul 10 August 2018
A poem with touching expression. Beautifully penned.
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Lungelo S Mbuyazi 10 August 2018
The beauty of the nicely chosen words makes this poem enjoyable to read....
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Edward Kofi Louis 10 August 2018
And the body is all but a belly! ! Thanks for sharing.
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Fredrick Nemes 10 August 2018
let them sing our victorious, If not them then mountains will, If not even rivers will rejoice, For we are victors.
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Mahtab Bangalee 10 August 2018
greatly written- Let the Commons go on, The town is our own, We'l rule alone:
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Bernard F. Asuncion 10 August 2017
Such a great and interesting poem.....
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