W is for Weary with toil…

My favourite poem is a sonnet written by William Shakespeare. For those who may not know, a sonnet is a fourteen line poem, and few years ago, I needed to write one on the fourteenth day of a thirty day writing challenge I took on.

At the time I had no faith in my ability to write poetry, and so I took some inspiration from my favourite one and wrote my version of Sonnet 27. Today, I’m going to share the actual sonnet with you…

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired:

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.

Lo! Thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.

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