Sonnet 66: Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry Comments

Always with complexity. But yet, his piece is always distinct like mine. Kudos!

Awesome I like this poem, check mine out

Each word here hearkens from the past Each word here speaks of bitter winters blast Of England in Elizabethan cloak, and yet Of life, of death invited, e'en invoked Where all of consequence time ordered should be broke Save love alone for one, for whom these words he wrote