Sonnetsday 31

LXXVI. HY is my verse so barren of new pride,      So far from variation or quick change?   Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth and where they did proceed? O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent:       For as the sun is daily new and old,       So is my love still telling what is told. W.S.