Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer: Yet then my judgment knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. But reckoning time, whose milliond accidents Creep in twixt vows and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpst intents, Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; Alas, why, fearing of times tyranny, Might I not then say Now I love you best, When I was certain oer incertainty, Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow? Sonnet 115 https://youtube/watch?v=Gg1xej8UBxo
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 00:23:00 +0000
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