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Poem by Michael Drayton


Sonnet 9. As Other Men


As other men, so I myself do muse
Why in this sort I wrest invention so,
And why these giddy metaphors I use,
Leaving the path the greater part do go.
I will resolve you: I am lunatic,
And ever this in madmen you shall find,
What they last thought of when the brain grew sick
In most distraction they keep that in mind.
Thus talking idly in this bedlam fit,
Reason and I, you must conceive, are twain;
"Tis nine years now since first I lost my wit;
Bear with me then, though troubled be my brain.
    With diet and correction men distraught 
    (Not too far past) may to their wits be brought.



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 38. Sitting Alone, Love
  5. Sonnet 24. I Hear Some Say


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