Sonnetsday 17

Sonnet XIV OT from the stars do I my judgment                               pluck;    And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well, By oft predict that I in heaven find: But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive, If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;       Or else of thee this I prognosticate:       Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. W.S.

Tags: Sonnets | Shakespeare