William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet 42: That Thou Hast Her, It Is Not All My Grief - Poem by William Shakespeare

That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;
That she hath thee is of my wailing chief,
A loss in love that touches me more nearly.
Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost love her because thou know'st I love her,
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
Suff'ring my friend for my sake to approve her.
If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
And, losing her, my friend hath found that loss;
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
And both for my sake lay on me this cross.
But here's the joy: my friend and I are one,
Sweet flattery! Then she loves but me alone.


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Read poems about / on: loss, friend, grief, joy, alone, love, sonnet, lost



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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