Hamnet Shakespeare


Lavender


No more by what you think I can ne'er know,
Such subtle thought in reverse reflexion,
That by e'ery fair face you still behold,
And to my mind hath weaved
A laurel wreath thy myrtle crown
Of all vicissitudes of the sky!
Not least to desecrate thine holy eye, love,
Something to wonder at thy golden brow;
The world is deemed to uplift the veil
Of what by night to stars hath rent,
This mirror that shows not half thy part,
Doth thy age-old visage hide.

(C) Hamnet Shakespeare

Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.

Submitted: Wednesday, May 07, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, May 07, 2014

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Date Created: Saturday, April 05,2014

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