More Shakespeare's Sonnets
By Fox-Trot-9

Sonnet 6: The Poet
(Introduction 3)

Am I at fault to raise a mortal youth,
As turbulent in constancy as chance,
Upon a throne of faith and hope and truth?
Could weak resolve with virtue ever dance?
When countless crimes do creep behind his feet,
And more temptations tempt his virgin eye,
Am I at fault to pardon his deceit?
Or dare to idolize his worth so high?
If loving truth implies a double standard,
That while his eyes do sin his heart remains
Above a lie, then make my love a dastard *
On which to sow my hopes for sweeter gains:
       For him to stand a prince in th' eyes of men,
       And I to be his proudest man by then.

(To be continued...)

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* Dastard = (n.) coward.