My first sonnet; very much an exercise (and I must admit it shows), but a useful and pleasant one.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s night?
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s night?
Thou art much fresher and much less subdued.
Shall I compose for thee a sonnet bright?
My skill with verse and rhyme’s but harsh and crude.
Shall I attempt to jest without respite
Or make pronouncements of great magnitude?
Few ever did such alien acts requite;
But fools and madmen ever thusly wooed.
Though yet if I the senses to delight
Were so much blest, that with both arts imbued
I could a single verse recite,
And to both compliment and jest allude:
These lines were witty then, and full of praise,
And not a feeble attempt to turn a phrase.
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