Tuesday, April 19, 2005

 

The summer's flow'r

Sonnet 94

They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flow'r with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Shakespeare

Comments:
I'm easily provoked sometimes ...
But let's just say "temptation slow" had something to do with it.
 
Temptation Slow, oh!
He knows no grief!
Temptation Slow, oh!
Beggars belief.

Ain't nothing darker than a wick, hey!
 
I was hoping you'd write a sonnet for us, Foomy.
 
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?