Portsmouth's Looking Glass

A poem by John Wilmot

Methinks I see you, newly risen
From your embroider'd Bed and pissing,
With studied mien and much grimace,
Present yourself before your glass,
To vanish and smooth o'er those graces,
You rubb'd off in your Night Embraces.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Portsmouth's Looking Glass' by John Wilmot

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy