Sonnet 116

Hello All!

Thanks, "Sense and Sensibility," for reminding me of the beauty of this sonnet. . . obviously, the bold is mine.  While I originally didn't want to add it (And this subtract from the already splendid majesty) I realized it's my blog, and this is where I feel the emphasis as I read:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixéd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose Worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom:

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved