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 min read
СлушатьSonnet 64 No More My Dear
0
0
17
Give Award
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…
Other author posts
Sonnet 9 Queen Virtues Court
Qun Virtu's urt, whih sm all Stlla's fa, Prpar' by Natur's hist furnitur, Hath his frnt built f alabastr pur; Gl in th vring f that statly pla…
Sonnet 41 Having This Day My Horse
Having this ay my hrs, my han, my lan Gui s wll that I btain' th priz, Bth by th jugmnt f th English ys An f sm snt frm that swt nmy Fran; Hrsmn my skill in hrsmanship avan, Twn flks my strngth; a ain...…
Psalm 139
O Lr in m thr lith nught But t thy sarh rval lis; Fr whn I sit Thu markst it: Nr lss thu ntst whn I ris: Ya, lsst lst f my thught Hath pn winws t thin ys Thu walkst with m whn I walk; Whn t...…
Sonnet 6 Some Lovers Speak
Sm lvrs spak whn thy thir Muss ntrtain, Of hps bgt by far, f wt nt what sirs: Of fr f hav'nly bams, infusing hllish pain: Of living aths, ar wuns, fair strms, an frzing firs…
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
