451Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts

452Which I, by lacking, have supposèd dead;

453And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts,

454And all those friends which I thought burièd.

455How many a holy and obsequious tear

456Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye,

457As interest of the dead, which now appear

458But things removed that hidden in thee lie.

459Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,

460Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,

461Who all their parts of me to thee did give;

462That due of many, now is thine alone.

463 Their images I loved, I view in thee,

464 And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

466If thou survive my well-contented day,

467When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,

468And shalt by fortune once more re-survey

469These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover:

470Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,

471And though they be outstripped by every pen,

472Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,

473Exceeded by the height of happier men.

474Oh, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:

475"Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,

476A dearer birth than this his love had brought,

477To march in ranks of better equipage;

478 But since he died and poets better prove,

479 Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love."

481Full many a glorious morning have I seen

482Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye--

483Kissing with golden face the meadows green,

484Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy--

485Anon permit the basest clouds to ride,

486With ugly rack on his celestial face,

487And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

488Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:

489Even so my sun one early morn did shine

490With all triumphant splendor on my brow;

491But out alack, he was but one hour mine,

492The region cloud hath masked him from me now.

493 Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth:

494 Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.