Author Sir Walter Ralegh I cannot bend the Bow wherein to shoot I sue. It is not made of oake but it is made of youe. This bow must have a string the string must have a shaft The shaft must have a noch, wherat my Lady laught. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments