sonnet iii - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

I have a hoard of treasure in my breast;
The grange of memory steams against the door,
Full of my bygone lifetime's garnered store -Old pleasures crowned with sorrow for a zest,
Old sorrow grown a joy, old penance blest,

When I do think my meanest line shall
More in Time's use than my creating whole,
That future eyes more clearly shall feel
In this inked page than in my direct soul;