How oft when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap,
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled, they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
The Sonnets Cxxviii - How Oft When Thou, My Music, Music Play'st
William Shakespeare
(1)
Poem topics: change, happy, poor, walk, tender, gentle, sweet, play, situation, stand, gently, kiss, music, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< The Sonnets Cxxvii - In The Old Age Black Was Not Counted Fair Poem
The Sonnets Cxxix - The Expense Of Spirit In A Waste Of Shame Poem>>
Write your comment about The Sonnets Cxxviii - How Oft When Thou, My Music, Music Play'st poem by William Shakespeare
Best Poems of William Shakespeare