Give any very good Shakespeare poem.
Answers
Answered by
3
A FAIRY SONG.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Over hill, over Dale,
throughout bush, throughout brier,
over park, over pale,
throughout flood, throughout fire!
I do wander everywhere,
swifter than the moon's sphere;
and I serve the Fairy Queen,
to dew her orbs upon the green ;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
in their Gold Coast spots you see;
those be Rubies, fairy favours;
in those freckless live their savours;
I must go seek some Dew drops here,
and hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
- By William Shakespeare...
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Over hill, over Dale,
throughout bush, throughout brier,
over park, over pale,
throughout flood, throughout fire!
I do wander everywhere,
swifter than the moon's sphere;
and I serve the Fairy Queen,
to dew her orbs upon the green ;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
in their Gold Coast spots you see;
those be Rubies, fairy favours;
in those freckless live their savours;
I must go seek some Dew drops here,
and hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
- By William Shakespeare...
janvi47:
that's great...
Answered by
3
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead,
and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have express’d
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time,
all you prefiguring;
And, for they look’d but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Had eyes to wonder,
but lack tongues to praise.
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead,
and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have express’d
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time,
all you prefiguring;
And, for they look’d but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Had eyes to wonder,
but lack tongues to praise.
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