Into these Loves who but for Passion looks, <br />At this first sight here let him lay them by <br />And seek elsewhere, in turning other books, <br />Which better may his labor satisfy. <br />No far-fetch'd sigh shall ever wound my breast, <br />Love from mine eye a tear shall never wring, <br />Nor in Ah me's my whining sonnets drest; <br />A libertine, fantasticly I sing. <br />My verse is the true image of my mind, <br />Ever in motion, still desiring change, <br />And as thus to variety inclin'd, <br />So in all humours sportively I range. <br />My Muse is rightly of the English strain, <br />That cannot long one fashion entertain.<br /><br />Michael Drayton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-reader-of-these-sonnets/
