Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare: Poems. 1914.
“Was it the proud full sail of his great verse”
Sonnet LXXXVI
| WAS it the proud full sail of his great verse |
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| Bound for the prize of all too precious you, |
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| That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, |
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| Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? |
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| Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write |
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| Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? |
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| No, neither he, nor his compeers by night |
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| Giving him aid, my verse astonished. |
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| He, nor that affable familiar ghost |
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| Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, |
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| As victors of my silence cannot boast; |
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| I was not sick of any fear from thence: |
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| But when your countenance fill’d up his line, |
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| Then lack’d I matter; that enfeebled mine. |
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