Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 40. My Heart the Anvil

My heart the anvil where my thoughts do beat;
My words the hammers fashioning my desire;
My breast the forge including all the heat;
Love is the fuel which maintains the fire;
My sighs the bellows which the flame increaseth,
Filling mine ears with noise and nightly groaning;
Toiling with pain, my labor never ceaseth,
In grievous passions my woes still bemoaning;
My eyes with tears against the fire striving,
Whose scorching gleed my heart to cinders turneth,
But with these drops the flame again reviving,
Still more and more it to my torment turneth.
    With Sisyphus thus do I roll the stone, 
    And turn the wheel with damned Ixion.

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

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