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Sonnet 143: Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch
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Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch
One of her feathered creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay,
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent:
So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope turn back to me,
And play the mother's part: kiss me, be kind.
So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,
If thou turn back and my loud crying still.
William Shakespeare
Read poems about / on: kiss, child, mother, hope, sonnet, running, children
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Egal Bohen (2/11/2008 4:33:00 PM)
Deserted and abandoned, e'en Will
It seems needs love
To load with ink his gifted quill |
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William Shakespeare
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