The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86) Poem Rhyme Scheme

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 5 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Wonderful Women
by Umaru Kanneh Boima
Freedom To Scratch In Peace
by Olute Aete
Happy New Year
by Felix Menda
Human Beings
by Dana Graslie
Lust
by Wisdom Greatness
An Isolated Tree's Song
by Sayeed Abubakar
A Strange Boy
by Sayeed Abubakar
O Soil
by Sayeed Abubakar
No War, No War-monger
by Sayeed Abubakar
Night's Town
by Sayeed Abubakar

Popular Poets

1. Emily Dickinson(2414 poems)
2. Madison Julius Cawein(1231 poems)
3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox(1136 poems)
4. William Wordsworth(1016 poems)
5. Robert Burns(986 poems)
6. Edgar Albert Guest(945 poems)
7. Thomas Moore(849 poems)
8. Robert Service(831 poems)

LXXVIII	A
	-
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse	B
And found such fair assistance in my verse	C
As every alien pen hath got my use	D
And under thee their poesy disperse	C
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing	E
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly	F
Have added feathers to the learned's wing	E
And given grace a double majesty	G
Yet be most proud of that which I compile	H
Whose influence is thine and born of thee	G
In others' works thou dost but mend the style	H
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be	G
But thou art all my art and dost advance	I
As high as learning my rude ignorance	J
	-
LXXIX	J
	-
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid	K
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace	J
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd	K
And my sick Muse doth give an other place	J
I grant sweet love thy lovely argument	L
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen	M
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent	N
He robs thee of and pays it thee again	M
He lends thee virtue and he stole that word	O
From thy behaviour beauty doth he give	A
And found it in thy cheek he can afford	P
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live	A
Then thank him not for that which he doth say	J
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay	J
	-
LXXX	J
	-
O how I faint when I of you do write	Q
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name	R
And in the praise thereof spends all his might	Q
To make me tongue tied speaking of your fame	R
But since your worth wide as the ocean is	J
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear	S
My saucy bark inferior far to his	J
On your broad main doth wilfully appear	T
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat	U
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride	V
Or being wrack'd I am a worthless boat	U
He of tall building and of goodly pride	V
Then if he thrive and I be cast away	J
The worst was this my love was my decay	J
	-
LXXXI	J
	-
Or I shall live your epitaph to make	W
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten	X
From hence your memory death cannot take	W
Although in me each part will be forgotten	X
Your name from hence immortal life shall have	A
Though I once gone to all the world must die	F
The earth can yield me but a common grave	A
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie	F
Your monument shall be my gentle verse	J
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er read	Y
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse	J
When all the breathers of this world are dead	Y
You still shall live such virtue hath my pen	M
Where breath most breathes even in the mouths of men	M
	-
LXXXII	J
	-
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse	J
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook	W
The dedicated words which writers use	J
Of their fair subject blessing every book	W
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue	Z
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise	J
And therefore art enforced to seek anew	Z
Some fresher stamp of the time bettering days	J
And do so love yet when they have devis'd	A2
What strained touches rhetoric can lend	B2
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathiz'd	A2
In true plain words by thy true telling friend	B2
And their gross painting might be better usd	B2
Where cheeks need blood in thee it is abusd	B2
	-
LXXXIII	J
	-
I never saw that you did painting need	B2
And therefore to your fair no painting set	B2
I found or thought I found you did exceed	B2
The barren tender of a poet's debt	B2
And therefore have I slept in your report	B2
That you yourself being extant well might show	C2
How far a modern quill doth come too short	B2
Speaking of worth what worth in you doth grow	C2
This silence for my sin you did impute	B2
Which shall be most my glory being dumb	D2
For I impair not beauty being mute	B2
When others would give life and bring a tomb	E2
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes	J
Than both your poets can in praise devise	J
	-
LXXXIV	A
	-
Who is it that says most which can say more	F2
Than this rich praise that you alone are you	Z
In whose confine immured is the store	F2
Which should example where your equal grew	Z
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell	G2
That to his subject lends not some small glory	G
But he that writes of you if he can tell	G2
That you are you so dignifies his story	G
Let him but copy what in you is writ	B2
Not making worse what nature made so clear	T
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit	B2
Making his style admired every where	S
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse	J
Being fond on praise which makes your praises worse	J
	-
LXXXV	A
	-
My tongue tied Muse in manners holds her still	H2
While comments of your praise richly compiled	B2
Reserve thy character with golden quill	H2
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed	B2
I think good thoughts whilst others write good words	J
And like unlettered clerk still cry 'Amen'	Z
To every hymn that able spirit affords	J
In polished form of well refined pen	Z
Hearing you praised I say ''tis so 'tis true '	-
And to the most of praise add something more	F2
But that is in my thought whose love to you	Z
Though words come hindmost holds his rank before	F2
Then others for the breath of words respect	B2
Me for my dumb thoughts speaking in effect	B2
	-
LXXXVI	A
	-
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse	J
Bound for the prize of all too precious you	Z
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse	J
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew	Z
Was it his spirit by spirits taught to write	B2
Above a mortal pitch that struck me dead	B2
No neither he nor his compeers by night	B2
Giving him aid my verse astonished	B2
He nor that affable familiar ghost	B2
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence	J
As victors of my silence cannot boast	B2
I was not sick of any fear from thence	J
But when your countenance filled up his line	Z
Then lacked I matter that enfeebled mine	Z

William Shakespeare

The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Write your comment about The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86) poem by William Shakespeare

Recent Interactions*

New Poems

Popular Poets