My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds
her still,
While comments of your praise, richly
compiled,
Reserve their character with golden
quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses
filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write
good words,
And like unletter'd clerk still cry
'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so,
'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add something
more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to
you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his
rank before.
Then others for the breath of words
respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in
effect.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
