William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Cxxxii - Poem by William Shakespeare

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.


Comments about Sonnet Cxxxii by William Shakespeare

  • Rookie - 184 Points Brian Jani (4/26/2014 10:13:00 AM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: star, beauty, heaven, pain, sun, heart, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2001

Poem Edited: Friday, May 18, 2001


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