This week we have another sonnet from William Shakespeare (1564-1616).
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Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Not lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long as lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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Hope you like it.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Monday, 13 September 2010
Classic Wedding Poem by Robert C. O. Benjamin - My Lady Love
This weeks poem is an emotional piece by Robert C. O. Benjamin (1855-1900) that is often read during the ceremony or used as part of a speech. I hope this is of some use.
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My Lady Love
There are none so happy as my love and I,
None so joyous, blithe and free;
The reason is, that I love her,
And the reason is, she love me.
There are none so sweet as my own fond love,
None so beauteous or true;
Her equal I could never find,
Though I search the whole world thro’.
There’s no love so true as my lady sweet;
None so constant to its troth;
There’s naught on earth like her so dear,
No queen her equal in her worth.
So there’s none so happy as my love and I;
None so blissful, blithe and free,
And the reason is that I am hers,
And she, in truth, belongs to me.
________________________________
My Lady Love
There are none so happy as my love and I,
None so joyous, blithe and free;
The reason is, that I love her,
And the reason is, she love me.
There are none so sweet as my own fond love,
None so beauteous or true;
Her equal I could never find,
Though I search the whole world thro’.
There’s no love so true as my lady sweet;
None so constant to its troth;
There’s naught on earth like her so dear,
No queen her equal in her worth.
So there’s none so happy as my love and I;
None so blissful, blithe and free,
And the reason is that I am hers,
And she, in truth, belongs to me.
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