Schach-Matt.
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Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb,
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say ´This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.´
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue;
And your true rights be term'd by a poet's rage,
And streched metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice - in it, and in my rhyme.
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 17
A new poem, called Common Sense added on the 10/30/09
Bullet for my valentine got updated on the 10/02/09.
A new short story called Mr.Fetus got posted on the 10/02/09
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb,
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say ´This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.´
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue;
And your true rights be term'd by a poet's rage,
And streched metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice - in it, and in my rhyme.
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 17
A new poem, called Common Sense added on the 10/30/09
Bullet for my valentine got updated on the 10/02/09.
A new short story called Mr.Fetus got posted on the 10/02/09