Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day

If thou survive my well-contented dayWhen that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,And shalt by fortune once more re-surveyThese poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,And though they be outstripped by every pen,Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,Exceeded by the height of happier men.O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:"Had my

Related Post