So am I as the rich, whose blessed
key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked
treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom
pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so
rare,
Since, seldom coming, in the long year
set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed
are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my
chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth
hide,
To make some special instant special
blest,
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.
Blessed are you, whose worthiness
gives scope,
Being had, to triumph, being lack'd,
to hope.
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Shakespeare's Sonnets:
