MICHAEL DRAYTON'S POEM - TO HIS COY LOVE

 

On the day 5 of the Blog chatter’s #WRITEAPAGEADAY, Here is a poem with love as the major theme.

 

Poet: Michael Drayton

Poem: TO HIS COY LOVE

 

I pray thee, leave, love me no more,  

  Call home the heart you gave me!  

I but in vain that saint adore  

  That can but will not save me.  

These poor half-kisses kill me quite—

  Was ever man thus servèd?  

Amidst an ocean of delight  

  For pleasure to be starvèd?  

 

Show me no more those snowy breasts  

  With azure riverets branchèd,

Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,  

  Yet is my thirst not stanchèd;  

O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell!  

  By me thou art prevented:  

'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,

  But thus in Heaven tormented.  

 

Clip me no more in those dear arms,  

  Nor thy life's comfort call me,  

O these are but too powerful charms,  

  And do but more enthral me!

But see how patient I am grown  

  In all this coil about thee:  

Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,  

  I cannot live without thee!

 

Michael Drayton is one of the most astonishing writers of his time. He is the first to write odes in English in the manner of Horace. His versatility was amazing and there is scarcely any side of poetic craftsmanship which he could not tackle with success. As an historical poet he may be regarded as the Scott of his age, and his BALLAD OF AGINCOURT is a splendid specimen of its kind.