William Shakespeare
Warwickshire
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Sonnet Ciii

Rating: 3.3
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O, blame me not, if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
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COMMENTS
Fabrizio Frosini 07 November 2015
In the previous Sonnet had been set forth the thought that poetical eulogy and embellishment can add nothing to perfect truth and beauty. They are to be regarded rather as injurious. The thought here presented is essentially the same. And the concluding lines furnish an excuse for the poet's previous silence.
11 1 Reply
Brian Jani 26 April 2014
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out
1 2 Reply
* Sunprincess * 26 December 2013
.............love the theme and the rhyme...so beautifully written..
1 2 Reply
Egal Bohen 13 February 2008
For limited by words are we To draw in verse such symetry And words imperfect, soiled by man Cannot true beauty understand
2 0 Reply

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