'Why I write not of Love' by Ben Jonson.

Butchered for Day 12 of the Charlie Challenge at http://youmeandcharlie.com.

Some act of Love's bound to reherse,
I thought to bind him, in my verse:
Which when he felt, Away (quoth hee)
Can Poets hope to fetter me?
It is enough, they once did get
MARS, and my Mother, in their net:
I weare not these my wings in vaine.
With which he fled me: and againe,
Into my ri'mes could ne're be got
By any arte. Then wonder not,
That since, my numbers are so cold,
When Love is fled, and I grow old.

Ian Edward Goldring

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