Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
IdeaSonnet 43. Why should your fair eyes, with such sovereign grace
Michael Drayton (15631631)[First printed in 1605 (No. 43), and in all later editions. ]
W
Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit,
Whilst I in darkness, in the self-same place,
Get not one glance to recompense my merit?
So doth the plowman gaze the wandering star,
And only rest contented with the light;
That never learned what constellations are,
Beyond the bent of his unknowing sight.
O why should Beauty (custom to obey),
To their gross sense apply herself so ill!
Would God! I were as ignorant as they!
When I am made unhappy by my skill!
Only compelled on this poor good to boast,
Heavens are not kind to them, that know them most!