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Poem by Michael Drayton


Sonnet 43. Why should Your Fair Eyes


Why should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace
Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit,
Whilst I in darkness, in the self-same place,
Get not one glance to recompense my merit?
So doth the plowman gaze the wand'ring star,
And only rest contented with the light,
That never learn'd what constellations are
Beyond the bent of his unknowing sight.
O why should Beauty, custom to obey,
To their gross sense apply herself so ill?
Would God I were as ignorant as they,
When I am made unhappy by my skill,
    Only compell'd on this poor good to boast: 
    Heav'ns are not kind to them that know them most.



Michael Drayton


Michael Drayton's other poems:
  1. Roc
  2. Sonnet 39. Some, when in Rhyme They of their Loves do Tell
  3. Sonnet 56. When like an Eaglet I First Found My Love
  4. Sonnet 34. Marvel not, Love
  5. Sonnet 38. Sitting Alone, Love


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