Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 23. Love, Banish'd Heav'n

Love, banish'd Heav'n, on Earth was held in scorn,
Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary,
And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born,
Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by.
I, like a man devout and charitable,
Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring guest,
With sighs and tears still furnishing his table
With what might make the miserable blest.
But this ungrateful, for my good desert,
Entic'd my thoughts against me to conspire,
Who gave consent to steal away my heart,
And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire.
    Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold, 
    No marvel then though charity grow cold.

1. Sonnet 47. In Pride of Wit
2. Roc
3. Sonnet 14. If He From Heav'n
4. Sonnet 27. Is not Love
5. The Trent (NEAR to the silver Trent)

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