Sonnet Xi

Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound.
When Heaven gave liberty to fraile dull earth,
To bringe foorth plenty that in ills abound,
Which ripest, yet doe bring a certaine dearth.
A timelesse, and unseasonable birth,
Planted in ill, in worse time springing found,
Which Hemlocke like might feed a sicke-wits mirth
Where unrul'd vapours swimme in endlesse round.
Then joy we not in what we ought to shunne,
Where shady pleasures shew, but true borne fires
Are quite quench'd out, or by poore ashes won,
Awhile to keepe those coole, and wann desires.
O no, let Love his glory have, and might
Be giv'n to him, who triumphs in his right
Saturday, September 18, 2010
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

3/6/2021 3:14:08 AM # 1.0.0.510