A Poem for a Thursday #141

In all the weeks I have been posting poems, it seems I have only featured Shakespeare once. Today’s post will remedy that situation. I think most poetry is better if it is read aloud so feel free to declaim this with appropriate emphasis to your family, the resident pet, or any other semi-appreciative audience. I like to believe Shakespeare would approve.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimmage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beautous and her old face new. 
   Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
   For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

Sonnet 27
William Shakespeare

Brona has shared a poem today.