Klan wS

SANCHEZ45 · Gość

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,

To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
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That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:

Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
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And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness