In Michael Drayton’s sonnet, the speaker addresses Love directly, telling it not to be surprised by his intense admiration, even though it leaves him perpetually unfulfilled. He admits his thoughts are “ravish’d a world beyond the farthest thought,” reaching for a perfection that even Wisdom itself cannot correct, yet the result is always the same: he is “only starv’d in my desire.” The repeated refrain builds a hypnotic, almost resigned rhythm, as if he is trying to convince himself as much as Love. The real twist comes in the closing couplet. If Love wants something to marvel at, it shouldn’t be the speaker’s towering aspirations but the fact that their inevitable failure no longer strikes him as strange. This creates a mood of weary acceptance, where longing has become so habitual that even its pain has lost its shock.
Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love — Summary
To Admiration
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought, And knowing more than ever hath been taught, That I am only starv'd in my desire. Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Aiming at things exceeding all perfection, To Wisdom's self to minister correction, That I am only starv'd in my desire. Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Though my conceit I further seem to bend Than possibly invention can extend, And yet am only starv'd in my desire. If thou wilt wonder, here's the wonder, Love: That this to me doth yet no wonder prove.