Love's Lunacy <br /> <br />Why do I speak of joy, or write of love, <br />When my heart is the very den of horror, <br />And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove, <br />With all his torments and infernal terror? <br />What should I say? What yet remains to do? <br />My brain is dry with weeping all too long, <br />My sighs be spent in uttering my woe, <br />And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong; <br />But, still distracted in Love's lunacy, <br />And, bedlam-like, thus raging in my grief, <br />Now rail upon her hair, then on her eye, <br />Now call her Goddess, then I call her thief, <br />Now I deny her, then I do confess her, <br />Now do I curse her, then again I bless her.<br /><br />Michael Drayton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xli-why-do-i-speak-of-joy/
