Sonnet XIV
|
|
 
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; | 1
And yet methinks I have astronomy, | 2
But not to tell of good or evil luck, | 3
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; | 4
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, | 5
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, | 6
Or say with princes if it shall go well, | 7
By oft predict that I in heaven find: | 8
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, | 9
And, constant stars, in them I read such art | 10
As truth and beauty shall together thrive, | 11
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; | 12
    Or else of thee this I prognosticate: | 13
    Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. | 14
| | | | | | | | | | | | | |
|