The Poetry Corner

Sonnets: Idea XV His Remedy For Love

By Michael Drayton

Since to obtain thee nothing me will stead, I have a med'cine that shall cure my love. The powder of her heart dried, when she's dead, That gold nor honour ne'er had power to move; Mixed with her tears that ne'er her true love crost, Nor at fifteen ne'er longed to be a bride; Boiled with her sighs, in giving up the ghost, That for her late deceasd husband died; Into the same then let a woman breathe, That being chid did never word reply; With one thrice married's prayers, that did bequeath A legacy to stale virginity. If this receipt have not the power to win me, Little I'll say, but think the devil's in me!