Sonnet #99

Sonnet #99

XCIX.br /br /The forward violet thus did I chide:br /Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,br /If not from my love's breath? The purple pridebr /Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwellsbr /In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.br /The lily I condemned for thy hand,br /And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:br /The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,br /One blushing shame, another white despair;br /A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of bothbr /And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;br /But, for his theft, in pride of all his growthbr /A vengeful canker eat him up to death.br /More flowers I noted, yet I none could seebr /But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.

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