Sonnet I

To my Mistress, by way of excuse for not sending her any thing of mine, who by her asking had given me occasion of writing.
If you were mine, and I were your man,</strong>
I would not have you to believe that I would fain</strong>
Be any thing but what I am, altho I could be</strong>
The greatest King that ever was amongst men.</strong>
For if you were mine, and I your man, with your leave,</strong>
I would not have you to believe that I would fain</strong>
Be any thing but what I am, altho I could be</strong>
The greatest King that ever was amongst men.</strong>
But if you were mine and I your man and you did not love me,</strong>
My love would not make you happy, if you were to be mine.</strong>
And if you were mine, and I your man, and you did not love me,</strong>
I would not have you to believe that I would fain</strong>
Be any thing but what I am, altho I could be</strong>
The greatest King that ever was amongst men.</strong>
So if you were mine, and I your man, and you did not love me,</strong>
My love would not make you happy, if you were to be mine.</strong>
But if you were mine, and I your man, with your leave,</strong>
I would not have you to believe that I would fain</strong>
Be any thing but what I am, altho I could be</strong>
The greatest King that ever was amongst men.</strong>
For if you were mine, and I your man, with your leave,</strong>
I would not have you to believe that I would fain</strong>
Be any thing but what I am, altho I could be</strong>
The greatest King that ever was amongst men.</strong>

About Edna St. Vincent Millay

American poet, playwright, and essayist known for her distinctive voice and modernist style.

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