More Shakespeare's Sonnets
By Fox-Trot-9

Sonnet 38: The Poet
(Inspiration 27)

Oh! When I do compare myself with thee,
Comparing strengths and weaknesses to thine,
Thou dost transcend the very best in me
In that thou mak'st thine inspiration mine;
For having lost my wit in waning years
To cruel forgetfulness and grief, the lines
With which I rhyme do fill mine eyes with tears
To contemplate decline in these designs.
But in my thoughts of thee, though metaphor
And rhyme may lose their force with every line
I write, my love for thee grows evermore
The stronger than all words could dare define.
       For love lives not in rhyme or words or stone
       But in the one that loves thee as his own.

(To be continued...)

A/N: Here's the next installment of the sonnets... It's also the last installment of the Inspiration Arc...