Sonnets: Idea XLIX
Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write, And sayst my lines be dull and do not move, I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight, Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love; But thou whose pen hath like a packhorse served, Whose stomach unto gall hath turned thy food, Whose senses like poor prisoners, hunger-starved Whose grief hath parched thy body, dried thy blood; Thou which hast scornd life and hated death, And in a moment, mad, sober, glad, and sorry; Thou which hast banned thy thoughts and curst thy birth With thousand plagues more than in purgatory; Thou thus whose spirit love in his fire refines, Come thou and read, admire, applaud my lines!
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"Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,..."
This evocative piece by Michael Drayton, titled "Sonnets: Idea XLIX", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...