Sixty-Five Sonnets With Prefatory Remarks on the Accordance of the Sonnet with the Powers of the English Language: Also, A Few Miscellaneous Poems [by Thomas Doubleday] |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. | LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||
82
LVI.
'Tis true her hazel eye, so gently mild,A gentler than itself hath haply seen,
Her coral lips, with ivory between,
So sweetly smiling, may have been outsmiled;
Perchance, her nut-brown tresses, waving wild
In many an artless ringlet, may bedeck
The graceful roundness of a snowy neck,
Than which, though fair, some fairer may be styled:
'Tis true my friend; but not more true it is
Than that my Mira, still, of woman kind,
Fixed in this heart, to me must dearest prove:
And sickliness of fancy call'st thou this,
Or imbecile fatuity of mind,
Or devilish enchantment? No, 'tis love!
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||