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Michael Drayton

Michael Drayton Biography

Poet

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“Why do I speak of joy or write of love, When my heart is the very den of horror, And in my soul the pains of hell I prove, With all his tormented and infernal terror? What should I say? what yet remains to do? My brain is dry with weeping all too long; My signs be spent in utt'ring of my woe, And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong. Love's Lunacy: Sonnet XLI”

LoveSadnessDespairUnrequited
Book:Idea: Elizabethan Sonnet Cycle
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“Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part, Nay, I have done, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes, Now, if thou wouldst, when all have giv'n him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover. - Sonnet LXI”

LoveSeparationBreaking Up
Book:Idea: Elizabethan Sonnet Cycle
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“Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive, And finds that by his strength but vainly he doth strive; His tail takes in his teeth, and bending like a bow, That's to the compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw: Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand, That, bended end to end, and flerted from the hand, Far off itself doth cast. so does the salmon vaut. And if at first he fail, his second sommersault He instantly assays and from his nimble ring, Still yarking never leaves, Until himself he fling Above the streamful top of the surrounded heap.”

IfsFirstsLittlesDoeStillsEndsHandsFailingSeaFeetRiversStriveCastsFishesRingsTeethBoatHeightLakesFishingBowsTailsCompassFlingBendingWandsSalmonNimble
Author:Michael Drayton
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