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Sonnets from the Portuguese 11 - ZaunköniG - 16.08.2007 Sonnets from the Portuguese XI And therefore if to love can be desert, I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale As these you see, and trembling knees that fail To bear the burden of a heavy heart,-- This weary minstrel-life that once was girt To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale A melancholy music,--why advert To these things? O Belovèd, it is plain I am not of thy worth nor for thy place! And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace, To live on still in love, and yet in vain,-- To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face. . |