名人诗歌|THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare (82)

LXXXII

I grant thou wert not married to my Muse^{1, And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook The dedicated2 words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing3 every book. Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue4, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise； And therefore art enforced to seek anew Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days. And do so, love； yet when they have devis'd, What strained touches rhetoric5 can lend, Thou truly fair, wert truly sympathiz'd In true plain words, by thy true-telling friend； And their gross painting might be better us'd Where cheeks need blood； in thee it is abus'd.}