Monday, October 10, 2011

Poem for Today

Sonnet 84

LXXXIV.










Who is it that says most? which can say more
Than this rich praise, that you alone are you?
In whose confine immured is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.




-  William Shakespeare

2 comments:

parrish lantern said...

Niki - Lawrence Durrell.

Love on a leave-of-absence came,
Unmoored the silence like a barge,
Set free to float on lagging webs
The swan-black wise unhindered night.


(Bitter and pathless were the ways
Of sleep to which such beauty led.)

James said...

Thanks for the poem.