Plain-path'd Experience, th'unlearned's guide,
Her simple followers evidently shows
Sometimes what Schoolmen scarcely can decide,
Nor yet wise Reason absolutely knows.
In making trial of a murther wrought,
If the vile actors of the heinous deed
Near the dead body happily be brought,
Oft it hath been prov'd the breathless corse will bleed.
She's coming near, that my poor heart hath slain,
Long since departed, to the world no more,
The ancient wounds no longer can contain,
But fall to bleeding as they did before.
But what of this? Should she to death be led,
It furthers justice, but helps not the dead.
More verses by Michael Drayton
- Sonnet Xviii: To This Our World
- Sonnet Lx: Define My Weal
- Sonnet Xlv: Muses, Which Sadly Sit
- Sonnet Xxii: Love, Banish'D Heav'N
- Sonnet Xxix: When Conquering Love