“ I’ll ease (as lovers do) my smart With sonnets to my lady Life Writ red in issues from the heart. What grace may lie within the chill Of favor frozen fast in scorn! When Good’s a-freeze, we call it Ill! ”
“ I’ll ease (as lovers do) my smart With sonnets to my lady Life Writ red in issues from the heart. What grace may lie within the chill Of favor frozen fast in scorn! When Good’s a-freeze, we call it Ill! ”
