Representative Poetry Online

Random Poem of the Day

Sonnet 32
1If thou survive my well-contented day,
2When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
3And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
4These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
5Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
6And though they be out-stripp't by every pen,
7Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
9Oh then vouchsafe me but this loving thought,
10"Had my friend's muse grown with this growing age,
11A dearer birth than this his love had brought
12To march in ranks of better equipage:
13    But since he died and poets better prove,
14    Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love."


8] happier] more fortunate or talented. Back to Line