So is it not with me as with that Muse
Sonnet 21So is it not with me as with that Muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, 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 fixed in heaven's air: Let them say more that like of hearsay well; I will not praise that purpose not to sell. Buy and Download...Click HERE
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I don't write like those who, taking inspiration from heavily made-up beauties, uses every imaginable superlative comparison to praise the loveliness of his subject. He'll compare his love favourably to the sun, and moon, with all the treasures of land and sea, with the most beautiful flowers, and all things marvellous under the sun.
My love is true, so I'll write of it truly. So believe me when I say that the one I love is as beautiful as any, even if not as beautiful as stars.
Those that don't mind hearsay can say more extravagant things. I'm not going to make extraordinary claims about my love, as if I were selling him via an info-mercial.