Love to the Virgins

I thought it was awful how Robert Herrick's poem basically said if you get plowed no-one will want to marry you. Maybe in some bygone era of romantic tomfoolery this was the case, but not in today's gritty, moist, squelching, steaming, gelatinous, hurried existence. This was also horribly unromantic, any talk of wilting innocence is an incredible turnoff even if it is a warning. Edna Millay's poem was dope as shit cause she did the whole refutation of her earlier points at the end thing. I like that. She keeps saying all these things that love can't do, and then says why would choose no love, even for all that. This poem is much less creepy than the other one too and it evokes real romantic ideas of how fatalistic love can be. Real Talk