Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 3. Taking my Pen

Taking my pen, with words to cast my woe,
Duly to count the sum of all my cares,
I find my griefs innumerable grow,
The reckonings rise to millions of despairs;
And thus dividing of my fatal hours,
The payments of my love I read and cross,
Subtracting, set my sweets unto my sours,
My joy's arrearage leads me to my loss;
And thus mine eye's a debtor to thine eye,
Which by extortion gaineth all their looks;
My heart hath paid such grievous usury
That all their wealth lies in thy beauty's books,
    And all is thine which hath been due to me, 
    And I a bankrupt, quite undone by thee.

1. Sonnet 37. Dear, why should You Command Me to My Rest
2. Sonnet 18. To this our World
3. Sonnet 57. You Best Discern'd of my Mind's Inward Eyes
4. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
5. Sonnet 14. If He From Heav'n

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