Sonnet 23: The dumb presagers of my speaking breast
As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
William Shakespeare
|
March 2013
|
Click here for the background story and reference images. |