Muses, which sadly sit about my chair, <br />Drown'd in the tears extorted by my lines, <br />With heavy sighs whilst thus I break the air, <br />Painting my passions in these sad designs, <br />Since she disdains to bless my happy verse, <br />The strong-built trophies to her living fame, <br />Ever henceforth my bosom be your hearse, <br />Wherein the world shall now entomb her name. <br />Enclose my music, you poor senseless walls, <br />Since she is deaf and will not hear my moans, <br />Soften yourselves with every tear that falls, <br />Whilst I, like Orpheus, sing to trees and stones, <br />Which with my plaint seem yet with pity mov'd, <br />Kinder than she whom I so long have lov'd.<br /><br />Michael Drayton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xlv-muses-which-sadly-sit/
