sonnet 24 |
Sonnets of William ShakespeareSonnet 24
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XXIV.
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'dThy beauty's form in table of my heart;My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,And perspective it... Posted by Amanda on Mon, 12 Feb 2007 05:17:00 PST |
The moon and ME |
The Moon, she hangs like a cruel portraitSoft winds whisper the bidding of treesAs this tragedy startsWith a shattered glass heart And midnightmare trampling of dreamsBut no, no tears please Fear and ... Posted by Amanda on Sat, 07 Oct 2006 11:42:00 PST |