I've read this poem several times now - and before - and, like, no go.
sometime i've been abducted by aliens and had the Sir Philip Sidney
by-pass op.
As for male poets losing the muse past their 20s, a bunch of monkeys
were given paint-brushes and paint. they were quite prolific once
puberty had come and gone and relationships and such
Roger
On 1/12/06, Jon Corelis <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Louing in trueth, and fayne in verse my loue to show,
> That she, deare Shee, might take som pleasure of my paine,
> Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know,
> Knowledge might pittie winne, and pity grace obtaine,
> I sought fit wordes to paint the blackest face of woe;
> Studying inuentions fine, her wits to entertaine,
> Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flow
> Some fresh and fruitfull showers vpon my sun-burnd brain.
> But words came halting forth, wanting Inuentions stay;
> Inuention, Natures childe, fledde step-dame Studies blowes;
> And others feet still seemde but strangers in my way.
> Thus, great with childe to speak, and helplesse in my throwes,
> Biting my trewand pen, beating myselfe for spite,
> Fool, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart, and write.
>
> Sir Philip Sidney -- Astrophel and Stella
>
--
http://www.badstep.net/
http://www.cb1poetry.org.uk/
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