Sonnets: Idea LVII
You best discerned of my mind's inward eyes, And yet your graces outwardly divine, Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies, Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine; You, in whom nature chose herself to view, When she her own perfection would admire; Bestowing all her excellence on you, At whose pure eyes Love lights his hallowed fire; Even as a man that in some trance hath seen More than his wond'ring utterance can unfold, That rapt in spirit in better worlds hath been, So must your praise distractedly be told; Most of all short when I would show you most, In your perfections so much am I lost.
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"You best discerned of my mind's inward eyes,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Michael Drayton delivers a powerful performance in "Sonnets: Idea LVII"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...