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10-08-2008, 08:20 PM
Sonnet #79
LXXIX.br /br /Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,br /My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,br /But now my gracious numbers are decay'dbr /And my sick Muse doth give another place.br /I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argumentbr /Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,br /Yet what of thee thy poet doth inventbr /He robs thee of and pays it thee again.br /He lends thee virtue and he stole that wordbr /From thy behavior; beauty doth he givebr /And found it in thy cheek; he can affordbr /No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.br /Then thank him not for that which he doth say,br /Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.
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LXXIX.br /br /Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,br /My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,br /But now my gracious numbers are decay'dbr /And my sick Muse doth give another place.br /I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argumentbr /Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,br /Yet what of thee thy poet doth inventbr /He robs thee of and pays it thee again.br /He lends thee virtue and he stole that wordbr /From thy behavior; beauty doth he givebr /And found it in thy cheek; he can affordbr /No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.br /Then thank him not for that which he doth say,br /Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.
More... (http://www.sonnetaday.com)