Sonnet 66

Shakespeare's Sonnet 66... Full Version

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

 

~Shakespeare, Sonnet 66

Author's Note

I clearly did not write this. This is Shakespeare's. Just saying.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing poem. Shakespeare can steal your thoughts away with his magic of his words. It is amazing. During the period of Shakespeare of the many great stories and tales that were written. Thank you for the sonnet.
Coyote