Sonnet Xlviii: Cupid, I Hate Thee

By Michael Drayton

Cupid, I hate thee, which I’d have thee know;
A naked starveling ever may’st thou be.
Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow
For some few rags wherewith to cover thee.
Or, if thou’lt not, thy archery forbear,
To some base rustic do thyself prefer,
And when corn’s sown or grown into the ear,
Practise thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.
Or, being blind, as fittest for the trade,
Go hire thyself some bungling harper’s boy;
They that are blind are often minstrels made;
So may’st thou live, to thy fair mother’s joy,
That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old way,
Thou, her blind son, may’st sit by them and play.

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on whatsapp
Share on telegram
Share on email
A.ward X Loso: It's Ok To Not Be O... x
A.ward X Loso: It's Ok To Not Be Ok (Spoken Word)

About Us

Pick Me Up Poetry seeks to be an agent of change in society by fostering cross-cultural dialogue and providing much-needed information and representation for writers and performers. We offer our followers insightful glimpses into cultures around the globe through various mediums including our online articles, poetry collections, spoken-word videos and more. 

The Poetry Network
🌍 Public group ~ 5.3K members
Open Group
The Poetry Network
🌍 Public group ~ 5.3K members
Open Group
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Join Our Family & Subscribe To Our Newsletter
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!
Join Our Family & Subscribe To Our Newsletter
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!