Sonnet VII: Love in a Humour
Love in a humor play'd the prodigalAnd bade my Senses to a solemn feast;Yet, more to grace the company withal,Invites my Heart to be the chiefest guest.No other drink would serve this glutton's turnBut precious tears distilling from mine eyne,Which with my sighs this epicure doth burn,Quaffing carouses in this costly wine;Where, in his cups o'ercome with foul excess,Straightways he plays a swaggering ruffian's part,And at the banquet in his drunkennessSlew his dear friend, my kind and truest Heart.A gentle warning, friends, thus may you seeWhat 'tis to keep a drunkard company.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.