Sonnet Xlix: Thou Leaden Brain Poem by Michael Drayton
Sonnet Xlix: Thou Leaden Brain
Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,
And say'st my lines be dull and do not move,
I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight,
Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love.
But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv'd,
Whose stomach unto gall hath turn'd thy food,
Whose senses, like poor prisoners, hunger-starv'd,
Whose grief hath parch'd thy body, dried thy blood,
Thou which hast scorned life and hated death,
And in a moment mad, sober, glad, and sorry,
Thou which hast bann'd thy thoughts and curs'd thy breath
With thousand plagues, more than in Purgatory,
Thou thus whose spirit Love in his fire refines,
Come thou, and read, admire, applaud my lines.
Exquisitely executed sonnet. The author talking to, reproaching actually, his own intellect as it dissects and lays bare his failures. Hewing to logic the intellect's critical facility pulls at loose threads and unravels what otherwise might have merit, were it to be observed more roundly, more wholly towards its larger purpose. What a difficult task-master to serve. But it is in truth in service of the author as a whole. The intellect is but one compartmentalized aspect the author draws on to reinforce and strengthen the work. A tool, nothing more, but a vital tool and necessary to complete the task. In no way superfluous or superficial to the completed goal. So the author shifts from being reproached to reminding intellect that it does not hold sway over all and must, in the end, submit and admit totality, even from the perspective of intellect, is beautiful and giving of pleasures beyond the confines of logic. Quite a thoughtful meditation.
Applaud my lines! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
And in a moment mad, sober, glad, and sorry, Thou which hast bann'd thy thoughts and curs'd thy breath With thousand plagues, more than in Purgatory, Thou thus whose spirit Love in his fire refines, Come thou, and read, admire, applaud my lines... touching expression. It is a beautiful sonnet on life and death.
Whose stomach unto gall hath turn'd thy food, Whose senses, like poor prisoners, hunger-starv'd, Whose grief hath parch'd thy body, dried thy blood, Thou which hast scorned life and hated death, Beautiful lines by the poet. Thanks for the sharing, . It needs a synchronous head with a loving heart to go ahead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 10:21:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thou leaden brain.... Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love. Come thou, and read, admire, applaud my lines.... // The brain and the heart should remain in complete harmony to enrich life. Thanks.