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Sonnet LX
THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild,
To euery planet point his sundry yeare:
In which her circles voyage is fulfild,
As Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare
So since the winged God his planet cleare,
Began in me to moue, one yeare is spent:
The which doth longer vnto me appeare,
Then al those fourty which my life outwent.
Then by that count, which louers books inuent,
The spheare of Cupid fourty yeares containes:
Which I haue wasted in long languishment,
That seemd the longer for my greater paines.
But let me loues fayre Planet short her wayes
This yeare ensuing, or else short my dayes.
(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Related poetry:
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- Sonnet LIX THrise happie she, that is so well assured Vnto her selfe and setled so in hart: That nether will for better be allured, Ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start, But like a steddy ship doth strongly part The raging waues and keepes her course aright: Ne ought for tempest doth from it […]...
- Sonnet LXXVI FAyre bosome fraught with vertues richest tresure, The neast of loue, the lodging of delight: The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure, The sacred harbour of that heuenly spright. How was I rauisht with your louely sight, And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray? Whiles diuing deepe through amorous insight, On the sweet […]...
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- Sonnet LXXXVII SInce I did leaue the presence of my loue, Many long weary dayes I haue outworne: And many nights, that slowly seemd to moue, Theyr sad protract from euening vntill morne. For when as day the heauen doth adorne, I wish that night the noyous day would end: And when as night hath vs of […]...
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- Sonnet IIII NEw yeare forth looking out of Ianus gate, Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight: And bidding th’old Adieu, his passed date Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright. And calling forth out of sad Winters night, Fresh loue, that long hath slept in cheerlesse bower: Wils him awake, and soone about […]...
- Sonnet (I) My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole showls of Martyrs once did burn, Besides their other flames? Doth Poetry Wear Venus livery? only serve her turn? Why are not Sonnets made of thee? and layes Upon thine Altar burnt? Cannot thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise As […]...
- Sonnet XLV LEaue lady, in your glasse of christall clene, Your goodly selfe for euermore to vew: And in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane, Most liuely lyke behold your semblant trew. Within my hart, though hardly it can shew, Thing so diuine to vew of earthly eye: The fayre Idea of your celestiall hew, And […]...
- Sonnet LXV THe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine That fondly feare to loose your liberty, When loosing one, two liberties ye gayne, And make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly. Sweet be the bands, the which true loue doth tye, Without constraynt or dread of any ill: The gentle birde feeles no captiuity […]...
- Sonnet LXXXVIII SInce I haue lackt the comfort of that light, The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray: I wander as in darkenesse of the night, Affrayd of euery dangers least dismay. Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day, When others gaze vpon theyr shadowes vayne: But th’onely image of that heauenly ray, […]...
- Sonnet XIIII REtourne agayne my forces late dismayd, Vnto the siege by you abandon’d quite, Great shame it is to leaue like one afrayd, So fayre a peece for one repulse so light. Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater might, Then those small forts which ye were wont belay, Such haughty mynds enur’d to hardy fight, Disdayne […]...
- Sonnet VIII MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere: No eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire, That to the world naught else be counted deare. Thrugh your bright beams doth not ye blinded guest, Shoot out his darts to base affections wound: But Angels come to lead […]...
- Sonnet XVIII: With What Sharp Checks With what sharp checks I in myself am shent, When into Reason’s audit I do go: And by just counts myself a bankrupt know Of all the goods, which heav’n to me hath lent: Unable quite to pay even Nature’s rent, Which unto it by birthright I do owe: And, which is worse, no good […]...
- Sonnet LVIII By Her That Is Most Assured To Her Selfe WEake is th’assurance that weake flesh reposeth, In her owne powre and scorneth others ayde: That soonest fals when as she most supposeth, Her selfe assurd, and is of nought affrayd. All flesh is frayle, and all her strength vnstayd, Like a vaine bubble blowen vp with ayre: Deuouring tyme & changeful chance haue prayd, […]...
- Sonnet LXXXIX LYke as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; And in her songs sends many a wishfull vew, For his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, Mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: And wandring here and there all desolate, […]...
- Sonnet XL MArk when she smiles with amiable cheare, And tell me whereto can ye lyken it: When on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare, An hundred Graces as in shade to sit. Lykest it seemeth in my simple wit Vnto the fayre sunshine in somers day: That when a dreadfull storme away is flit, Thrugh the broad […]...
- Sonnet LXXXIIII LEt not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre Breake out, that may her sacred peace molest: Ne one light glance of sensuall desyre: Attempt to work her gentle mindes vnrest. But pure affections bred in spotlesse brest, & modest thoughts breathd fro[m] wel te[m]pred sprites Goe visit her in her bowre of rest, Accompanyde with […]...
- Sonnet XXIII Penelope for her Vlisses sake, Deuiz’d a Web her wooers to deceaue: In which the worke that she all day did make The same at night she did againe vnreaue, Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceaue, Th’importune suit of my desire to shonne: For all that I in many dayes doo weaue, In one […]...
- Sonnet III THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: The light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, In my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view: But looking still on her I stand […]...
- Sonnet XLII THe loue which me so cruelly tormenteth, So pleasing is in my extreamest paine: That all the more my sorrow it augmenteth, The more I loue and doe embrace my bane. Ne doe I wish (for wishing were but vaine) To be acquit fro my continuall smart: But ioy her thrall for euer to remayne, […]...
- Sonnet LXI THe glorious image of the makers beautie, My souerayne faynt, the Idoll of my thought, Dare not henceforth aboue the bounds of dewtie, T’accuse of pride, or rashly blame for ought. For being as she is diuinely wrought, And of the brood of Angels heuenly borne: And with the crew of blessed Saynts vpbrought, Each […]...
- Sonnet XXV HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure, And know no end of her owne mysery: But wast and weare away in termes vnsure, Twixt feare and hope depending doubtfully. Yet better were attonce to let me die, And shew the last ensample of your pride: Then to torment me thus with cruelty, To proue […]...
- Sonnet LXX That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being woo’d of time; For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, […]...