And yet methinks I have Astronomy
But not to tell of good or evil luck
Of plagues of dearths or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell
Pointing to each his thunder rain and wind
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive
And constant stars in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق