A hundred well-metered verses written,
In praise, fall too short, in numbers too few;
And with the lengthened thoughtless hours smitten,
I stay charmed with her eye's impatient hue.
Blind will I go and believe all your lies,
A death will I die for each of your eyes.
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
A hundred well-metered verses written,
In praise, fall too short, in numbers too few;
And with the lengthened thoughtless hours smitten,
I stay charmed with her eye's impatient hue.
Blind will I go and believe all your lies,
A death will I die for each of your eyes.
Request permission to use this poem