Sonnets: Idea XLV
Muses which sadly sit about my chair, Drowned in the tears extorted by my lines; With heavy sighs whilst thus I break the air, Painting my passions in these sad designs, Since she disdains to bless my happy verse, The strong built trophies to her living fame, Ever henceforth my bosom be your hearse, Wherein the world shall now entomb her name. Enclose my music, you poor senseless walls, Sith she is deaf and will not hear my moans; Soften yourselves with every tear that falls, Whilst I like Orpheus sing to trees and stones, Which with my plaint seem yet with pity moved, Kinder than she whom I so long have loved.
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"Muses which sadly sit about my chair,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Michael Drayton delivers a powerful performance in "Sonnets: Idea XLV"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...