Monday, December 7, 2009

Variation on a Theme by W.S.

Let not winter's ragged hand deface
What you had planted with such skill
On sweet spring day in public place
To please the eye and heart to thrill.

Allay my fear, leave me assured
That this cruel weather will be cured.

1 comment:

murchadha said...

Cf. Sonnet 6:

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.