marycatelli (marycatelli) wrote,
marycatelli
marycatelli

Sonnet 17

Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet Heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, 'This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
So should my papers yellow'd with their age,
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice,-- in it and in my rhyme.

William Shakespeare
Tags: days: other
Subscribe

  • The May Magnificat

    May is Mary's month, and I Muse at that and wonder why: Her feasts follow reason, Dated due to season— Candlemas, Lady Day; But the Lady…

  • astute observation

    About spring

  • from spiralling ecstatically this

    from spiralling ecstatically this proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious night blossoms a newborn babe: around him, eyes –gifted with every keener…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments