February 8: Sonnet XVI

[February Feels Like]

Fie, foolish earth, think you the heaven wants glory

Because your shadows do yourself benight?

All's dark unto the blind, let them be sorry;

The heavens in themselves are ever bright.

Fie, fond desire, think you that love wants flory

Because your shadows do yourself benight?

The hopes and fears of lust may make men sorry,

But love still in herself finds her delight.

Then earth, stand fast, the sky that you benight

Will turn again and so restore your glory;

Desire, be steady, hope is your delight,

An orb wherein no creature can be sorry,

     Love being placed above these middle regions

     Where every passion wars itself with legions.

---

Baron Brooke Fulke Greville, Certaine learned and elegant vvorkes of the Right Honorable Fulke Lord Brooke written in his youth (1633)

Bonus! Old English spelling

Fye foolish Earth, thinke you the heauen wants glory,
Because your shadowes doe your selfe be-night?
All's darke vnto the blind, let them be sory,
The heauens in themselues are euer bright.
Fye fond desire, thinke you that Loue wants glory,
Because your shadowes doe your selfe benight?
The hopes and feares of lust, may make men sorie,
But loue still in her selfe finds her delight.
Then Earth stand fast, the skye that you benight
Will turne againe, and so restore your glory;
Desire be steady, hope is your delight,
An orbe wherein no creature can be sorie;
Loue being plac'd aboue these middle regions,
Where euery passion warres it selfe with legions.