Sonnet 108: What's in the brain that ink may character

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?

Nothing, sweet boy, but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old—thou mine, I thine—
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.

So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,

But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead. 

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Tuesday, July 12, 2011 - 01:57

Poesia Consagrada :

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Poesia Consagrada/General Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long 0 4.066 07/12/2011 - 01:42 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends 0 4.316 07/12/2011 - 01:43 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming 0 3.513 07/12/2011 - 01:50 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth 0 4.270 07/12/2011 - 01:52 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old 0 4.335 07/12/2011 - 01:53 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry 0 4.651 07/12/2011 - 01:53 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 106: When in the chronicle of wasted time 0 3.961 07/12/2011 - 01:54 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 0 3.979 07/12/2011 - 01:56 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 108: What's in the brain that ink may character 0 3.935 07/12/2011 - 01:57 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart 0 4.789 07/12/2011 - 01:57 English