Love, banish'd Heav'n, on Earth was held in scorn, <br />Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary, <br />And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born, <br />Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by. <br />I, like a man devout and charitable, <br />Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring guest, <br />With sighs and tears still furnishing his table <br />With what might make the miserable blest. <br />But this ungrateful, for my good desert, <br />Entic'd my thoughts against me to conspire, <br />Who gave consent to steal away my heart, <br />And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire. <br />Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold, <br />No marvel then though charity grow cold.<br /><br />Michael Drayton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxii-love-banish-d-heav-n/
