Robert Sidney (Роберт Сидни)

Sonnet 12. Who gives himself, may ill his words deny

Who gives himself, may ill his words deny;
My words gave me to you, my word I gave
Still to be yours, you speech and speaker have:
Me to my word, my word to you I tie.

Long ere I was, I was by Destiny
Unto your love ordained, a free-bound slave;
Destiny, which me to my own choice drave
And to my ends, made me my will apply:

For ere on earth in you true beauty came,
My first breath I had drawn, upon the day
Sacred to you, blessed in your fair name;

And all the days and hours, I since do spend
Are but the fatal, wished time to slay
To seal the bands of service without end.

1. Sonnet 15. You that haue power to kil, haue will to saue
2. Sonnet 8. If that her worth I could as well forget
3. Sonnet 11. Though the most perfect style cannot attain
4. Sonnet 10. She whom I serve to write did not despise
5. Sonnet 6. When rest locks up the treasures of delight

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1953

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