So oft have I invoked thee for my
Muse
And found such fair assistance in my
verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high
to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly
Have added feathers to the learned's
wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I
compile,
Whose influence is thine and born of
thee:
In others' works thou dost but mend the
style,
And arts with thy sweet graces graced
be;
But thou art all my art and dost
advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
