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 mee?
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.
I am busy working to bring Ben Jonson's "Why I Write Not of Love" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Ben Jonson's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Why I Write Not of Love" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.