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12-12-2008, 03:10 AM
Sonnet #107
CVII.br /br /Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soulbr /Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,br /Can yet the lease of my true love control,br /Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.br /The mortal moon hath her eclipse enduredbr /And the sad augurs mock their own presage;br /Incertainties now crown themselves assuredbr /And peace proclaims olives of endless age.br /Now with the drops of this most balmy timebr /My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes,br /Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,br /While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:br /And thou in this shalt find thy monument,br /When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
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CVII.br /br /Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soulbr /Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,br /Can yet the lease of my true love control,br /Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.br /The mortal moon hath her eclipse enduredbr /And the sad augurs mock their own presage;br /Incertainties now crown themselves assuredbr /And peace proclaims olives of endless age.br /Now with the drops of this most balmy timebr /My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes,br /Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,br /While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:br /And thou in this shalt find thy monument,br /When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
More... (http://www.sonnetaday.com)