New sonnets from Shakespeare.
One every five minutes.

SONNET DXV
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
How many a holy and obsequious tear
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
And I by this will be a gainer too;
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
I grant I never saw a goddess go,--
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
   In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
   To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

About | More dada


This document (source) is part of Crummy, the webspace of Leonard Richardson (contact information). It was last modified on Wednesday, June 13 2012, 20:00:46 Nowhere Standard Time and last built on Monday, January 26 2015, 14:30:05 Nowhere Standard Time.

Crummy is © 1996-2015 Leonard Richardson. Unless otherwise noted, all text licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Document tree:

http://www.crummy.com/
features/
dada/
bard/
Site Search: