literatureoutloud.com

Sonnet CXXIV

by William Shakespeare

If my dear love were but the child of state,

It might for Fortune's b*****d be unfather'd

As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate,

Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd.

No, it was builded far from accident;

It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls

Under the blow of thralled discontent,

Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls:

It fears not policy, that heretic,

Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,

But all alone stands hugely politic,

That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers.

To this I witness call the fools of time,

Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.

LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature

Audio narrations with synchronized visual text

daneallred.com

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit daneallred.substack.com/subscribe