Thursday, January 1, 2004

Sonnets Cxlvi: Poor Soul, The Centre Of My Sinful Earth Comments

Rating: 3.6

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
[......] these rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
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William Shakespeare
COMMENTS
Ruta Mohapatra 27 August 2018

'Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more. So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then'............Wise immortal lines!

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Brian Jani 26 April 2014

Awesome I like this poem, check mine out 

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William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

Warwickshire
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