Sonnet XVII

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William Shakespeare, Sonnet XVII

Who will believe my verse in time to come, If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.' So should my papers, yellowed with their age, Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poet's rage And stretched metre of an antique song: But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice, in it, and in my rhyme.

Music: Ralph Vaughan Williams, “Fantasia on Greensleeves“ from Sir John in Love, opera adapted from William Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, 1928 Nino Rota, 'Love Theme' from Romeo and Juliet (1968)