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the marlowe society - sonnet 21 lyrics

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so is it not with me as with that muse
stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse
who heaven itself for ornament doth use
and every fair with his fair doth rehe+rs+
making a couplement of proud compare
with sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems
with april’s first+born flowers, and all things rare
that heaven’s air in this huge rondure hems
o, let me, true in love, but truly write
and then believe me, my love is as fair
as any mother’s child, though not so bright
as those gold candles fix’d in heaven’s air:
let them say more that like of hearsay well;
i will not praise that purpose not to sell



- the marlowe society lyrics

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