sonnet14 lines
Sonnets: Idea XXXVIII
by Michael DraytonSitting alone, love bids me go and write;
Reason plucks back, commanding me to stay,
Boasting that she doth still direct the way,
Or else love were unable to indite.
Love growing angry, vex'd at the spleen,
And scorning reason's maim'd argument,
Straight taxeth reason, wanting to invent
Where she with love conversing hath not been.
Reason reproach'd with this coy disdain,
Despiteth love, and laugheth at her folly;
And love contemning reason's reason wholly,
Thought it in weight too light by many a grain.
Reason put back doth out of sight remove,
And love alone picks reason out of love.