Author Matthew Prior Strephonetta, why d'ye fly me, With such rigour in your eyes: Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me, Since your charms I so much prize. But I plainly see the reason Why in vain I you pursued, Her to gain 'twas out of season, Who before the chaplain woo'd. 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