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To the Senses
When conquering Love did first my Heart assail,
Unto mine aid I summon'd every Sense,
Doubting, if that proud tyrant should prevail,
My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes' offence;
But he with Beauty first corrupted Sight,
My Hearing bribed with her tongue's harmony,
My Taste by her sweet lips drawn with delight,
My Smelling won with her breath's spicery.
But when my Touching came to play his part
(The King of Senses, greater than the rest),
He yields Love up the keys unto my Heart,
And tells the other how they should be blest.
And thus by those of whom I hop'd for aid
To cruel Love my Soul was first betray'd.
Michael Drayton
Read poems about / on: beauty, heart, love, sonnet
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