Navigation Menu+

Sonnet 22

Posted by


Sonnet 22

My glass shall not persuade me I am old,

So long as youth and thou are of one date,

But when in thee time’s furrows I behold,

Then look I death my days should expiate.

For all that beauty that doth cover thee,

Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,

Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me,

How can I then be elder than thou art?

O therefore love be of thyself so wary,

As I not for myself, but for thee will,

Bearing thy heart which I will keep so chary

As tender nurse her babe from faring ill,

Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain,

Thou gav’st me thine not to give back again.

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *