Love, Fear and Hate and Childish Toys
Are here discreetly blent;
Admire, you ladies, read, you boys,
My Country Sentiment.
But Kate says, ‘Cut that anger and fear,
True love’s the stuff we need!
With laughing children and the running deer
That makes a book indeed.’
Then Tom, a hard and bloody chap,
Though much beloved by me,
‘Robert, have done with nursery pap,
Write like a man,’ says he.
Hate and Fear are not wanted here,
Nor Toys nor Country Lovers,
Everything they took from my new poem book
But the flyleaf and the covers.