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Re: Sonnets

http://education.yahoo.com/reference/shakespeare/poetry/50147.html

Sonnet CXLVII. 

“My love is as a fever, longing still”

 
MY love is as a fever, longing still   
For that which longer nurseth the disease;   
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,   
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.   
My reason, the physician to my love, 5 
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,   
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve   
Desire is death, which physic did except.   
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,   
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; 10 
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,   
At random from the truth vainly express’d;   
 For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, 
 
 Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.


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really must work...


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"I have often regretted my speech, never my silence."
- Xenocrates

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