Sonnet 86 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse (by Shakespeare)

Click here to read more Shakespeare in the Crisis Chronicles Online Library

LXXXVI.

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence.
      But when your countenance filled up his line,
      Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.



-*-

     

 
Trackbacks
  • Trackbacks are closed for this post.
Comments
  • No comments exist for this post.
Leave a comment

 Name

 Email (will not be published)

 Website

Your comment is 0 characters limited to 3000 characters.