New sonnets from Shakespeare.
One every five minutes.
One every five minutes.
If thou survive my well-contented day,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing
And given to time your own dear-purchas'd right;
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
And you in every blessed shape we know.
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
