(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Xxxvii

As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

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Comments (3)

I like this one. A sonnet to be admired. Always great.
great poem from the greatest of poets.. tony
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out