Email Poem

Your IP Address: 104.23.243.100

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	SONNET XLV. La guancia che fu già piangendo stanca. TO HIS FRIEND AGAPITO, WITH A PRESENT. Thy weary cheek that channell'd sorrow shows,My much loved lord, upon the one repose;More careful of thyself against Love be,Tyrant who smiles his votaries wan to see;And with the other close the left-hand pathToo easy entrance where his message hath;In sun and storm thyself the same display,Because time faileth for the lengthen'd way.And, with the third, drink of the precious herbWhich purges every thought that would disturb,Sweet in the end though sour at first in taste:But me enshrine where your best joys are placed,So that I fear not the grim bark of Styx,If with such prayer of mine pride do not mix. Macgregor.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required

Member Area