Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain...
Sonnet 122Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full character'd with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date, even to eternity; Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist; Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. That poor retention could not so much hold, Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; Therefore to give them from me was I bold, To trust those tables that receive thee more: To keep an adjunct to remember thee Were to import forgetfulness in me. |
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The contents of the blank notebook you gave to me (and which I’ve filled up with my memories of you) are already etched in my brain much more firmly than any book could hold them. I’ll remember them for ever – or at least as long as I live. Until I pass into oblivion myself entirely, I’ll remember them. I don’t need any help to recollect how much I love you: that’s why I dared to give the book away. I’m relying on the record that has a much fuller description of you, and to keep a written record of it would imply I had trouble in remembering.