| As an unperfect
actor on the stage, |
| Who with his fear
is put besides his part, |
| Or some fierce
thing replete with too much rage, |
| Whose strength's
abundance weakens his own heart; |
| So I for fear of
trust forget to say |
| The perfect
ceremony of love's rite |
| And in mine own
love's strength seem to decay, |
| O'ercharged with
burthen of mine own love's might. |
| O let my books be
then the eloquence |
| And dumb presagers
of my speaking breast, |
| Who plead for love
and look for recompense |
| More than that
tongue that more hath more expressed. |
| O learn to read
what silent love hath writ. |
| To hear with eyes
belongs to love's fine wit. |
| Shakespeare:
Sonnets |
| |