The Sonnets CVII - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confind doom. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endurd, And the sad augurs mock their own presage; Incertainties now crown themselves assurd, And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time, My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since, spite of him, Ill live in this poor rime, While he insults oer dull and speechless tribes: And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants crests and tombs of brass are spent.
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"Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul..."
Exploring the themes of classic, William Shakespeare delivers a powerful performance in "The Sonnets CVII - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...