Where are thou, Muse, that thou forgett'st
so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy
might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless
song,
Darkening thy power, to led base subjects
light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face sur-
vey,
If Time have anywrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despised everywhere.
Give my love fam faster than Time wastes
life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked
knife

So, yeah, my Muse has abandoned me for quite sometime.