William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Lxvi - Poem by William Shakespeare

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.


Comments about Sonnet Lxvi by William Shakespeare

  • Rookie - 59 Points Brian Jani (4/26/2014 10:48:00 AM)

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

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Read poems about / on: strength, faith, truth, alone, death, love, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001



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