Sonet 21 Poem by William Alexander

In this curst brest, borne onely to be pin'd,
Some furie hath such fantasies infus'd,
That I though with her cruelties well vs'd,
Can daigne my selfe to serue one so inclind.
Such hellish horrors tosse my restlesse mind,
That with beguiling hopes vainely abus'd,
It yet affects that which the Fates refus'd,
And dare presume to pleade for that vnkind:
Then traiterous thoughts, that haue seduc'd my sence,
Whose vaine inuentions I haue oft times wail'd,
I banish you the bounds, whereas ye fail'd
To liue from hence, exil'd for your offence.
But what auailes all this, though I would leaue them,
If that the heart they hurt againe receiue them?