FROM

I d e a.

by Michael Drayton


LXIV.

THINE eyes taught me the alphabet of Love,
To con my cross-row ere I learned to spell
(For I was apt, a scholar like to prove),
Gave me sweet looks when-as I learned well.
Vows were my vowels, when I then begun
At my first lesson in thy sacred name ;
My consonants, the next when I had done,
Words consonant and sounding to thy fame ;
My liquids then were liquid crystal tears,
My cares my mutes, so mute to crave relief ;
My doleful diphthongs were my life's despairs,
Redoubling sighs, the accents of my grief.
    My love's school-mistress now hath taught me so,
    That I can read a story of my woe.





Source:
Drayton, Michael. Idea.
Daniel's Delia and Drayton's Idea. Arundell Esdaile, Ed.
London: Chatto and Windus, 1908. 131.



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