When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, |
For all the day they view things unrespected; |
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, |
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. |
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, |
How would thy shadow's form form happy show |
To the clear day with thy much clearer light, |
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! |
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made |
By looking on thee in the living day, |
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade |
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! |
All days are nights to see till I see thee, |
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. Shakespeare |
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Sonnet 43
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment