To Lunacie

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Title:     To Lunacie
Author: Michael Drayton [More Titles by Drayton]

As other men, so I myself do muse,
Why in this sort I wrest Invention so,
And why these giddy metaphors I use,
Leaving the path the greater part do go;
I will resolve you; I am lunatic,
And ever this in mad men you shall find,
What they last thought on when the brain grew sick,
In most distraction keep that still in mind.
Thus talking idely in this bedlam fit,
Reason and I, (you must conceive) are twain,
'Tis nine years, now, since first I lost my wit
Bear with me, then, though troubled be my brain;
With diet and correction, men distraught,
(Not too far past) may to their wits be brought.

[The end]
Michael Drayton's poem: To Lunacie

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