Sonnet 41

A poem by Michael Drayton

Deare, why should you commaund me to my rest
When now the night doth summon all to sleepe?
Me thinks this time becommeth louers best,
Night was ordained together friends to keepe.
How happy are all other liuing things,
Which though the day disioyne by seuerall flight,
The quiet euening yet together brings,
And each returnes vnto his loue at night.
O thou that art so curteous vnto all,
Why shouldst thou Night abuse me onely thus,
That euery creature to his kinde doost call,
And yet tis thou doost onely seuer vs.
Well could I wish it would be euer day,
If when night comes you bid me goe away.

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