Your love and pity doth th' impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'ergreen my bad, my good allow?
You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steeled sense or changes, right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppèd are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense.
    You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
   That all the world besides, methinks, are dead.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 568 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Shakespeare
Poem: 112. Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th' impression fill
Volume: The Sonnets
Year: Published/Written in 1609
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