No more, my dear, no more these counsels try; Oh, give my passions leave to run their race; Let Fortune lay on me her worst disgrace; Let folk o'ercharg'd with brain against me cry; Let clouds bedim my face, break in mine eye; Let me no steps but of lost labour trace; Let all the earth with scorn recount my case, But do not will me from my love to fly. I do not envy Aristotle's wit, Nor do aspire to Caesar's bleeding fame; Nor aught do care though some above me sit; Nor hope nor wish another course to frame, But that which once may win thy cruel heart: Thou art my wit, and thou my virtue art.
2 мин
СлушатьSonnet 64 No More My Dear
0
0
17
Подарок
Sir Philip Sidney
Sir Philip Sidney (30 November 1554 – 17 October 1586) was an English poet, courtier, scholar and soldier who is remembered as one of the most p…
Другие работы автора
Sonnet 8 Love Born In Greece
Lv, brn in Gr, f lat fl frm his nativ pla, Fr' by a tius prf, that Turkish harn' hart Is n fit mark t pir with his fin pint art, An plas' with ur sft pa, stay hr his flying ra But f...…
Astrophel And Stella-Eleventh Song
&qut;Wh is it that this ark Unrnath my winw plainth &qut;'It is n wh frm thy Bing, ah…
Sonnet 31 With How Sad Steps
With hw sa stps, O Mn, thu limb'st th skis Hw silntly, an with hw wan a fa What, may it b that vn in hav'nly…
My True Love Hath My Heart And I Have His
My tru-lv hath my hart, an I hav his, By just xhang, n fr th thr giv'n I hl his ar, an min h annt miss; Thr nvr was a bttr bargain riv'n…
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий