Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
He nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence.
But when your countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine.
Sonnet 086: Was It The Proud Full Sail Of His Great Verse
William Shakespeare
(1)
Poem topics: fear, night, sick, silence, great, write, brain, spirit, precious, intelligence, ghost, matter, bound, womb, I love you, I miss you, verse, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< Sonnet 085: My Tongue-tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still Poem
Sonnet 087: Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing Poem>>
Write your comment about Sonnet 086: Was It The Proud Full Sail Of His Great Verse poem by William Shakespeare
Best Poems of William Shakespeare