Some act of <br />Love's <br />bound to reherse, <br />I thought to bind him, in my verse: <br />Which when he felt, Away (quoth he) <br />Can Poets hope to fetter me? <br />It is enough, they once did get <br />Mars, and my <br />Mother <br />, in their net: <br />I weare not these my wings in vaine. <br />With which he fled me: and againe, <br />Into my rimes could ne're be got <br />By any art. Then wonder not, <br />That since, my numbers are so cold, <br />When <br />Love <br />is fled, and I grow old.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-why-i-write-not-to-love/
