Poem by Giles Fletcher the Elder

Licia Sonnets 47

Like Memnon's rock, touched with the rising sun
Which yields a sound and echoes forth a voice,
But when it's drowned in western seas is done,
And drowsy-like leaves off to make a noise;
So I, my love, enlightened with your shine,
A poet's skill within my soul I shroud,
Not rude like that which finer wits decline,
But such as Muses to the best allowed.
But when your figure and your shape is gone
I speechless am like as I was before;
Or if I write, my verse is filled with moan,
And blurred with tears by falling in such store
Then muse not, Licia, if my Muse be slack,
For when I wrote I did thy beauty lack. 

1. Licia Sonnets 42
2. Licia Sonnets 48
3. Licia Sonnets 49
4. Licia Sonnets 19
5. Licia Sonnets 38

Print

2764 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version