William Shakespeare: Sonnet 014

W i l l i a m   S h a k e s p e a r e

(1564-1616)

T H E   S O N N E T S

 

14

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,

And yet methinks I have astronomy,

But not to tell of good, or evil luck,

Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality,

Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell;

Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,

Or say with princes if it shall go well

By oft predict that I in heaven find.

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,

And constant stars in them I read such art

As truth and beauty shall together thrive

If from thy self, to store thou wouldst convert:

Or else of thee this I prognosticate,

Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.

k e m p i s   p o e t r y   m a g a z i n e

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