How careful was I when I took my way...
Sonnet 48How careful was I when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou best of dearest and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, Within the gentle closure of my breast, From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. Listen to the recording!Free sample available for this sonnet! Click HERE
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How careful I was, in insuring all sorts of unimportant things to be safe from thieves, reserved only for my use. But you (compared to whom all my worldly possessions are nothing), my most precious thing, and now my biggest sorrow; you who are best and dearest and only thought, you’re left to the mercy of any common or garden burglar.
I didn’t lock you up in any chest, except that one where you’re not (though I still feel as if you are): within the gentle enclosure of my own heart, from where you can come and go at will.
I’m afraid that you’ll be stolen even from there, because even truth turns to a thief when the stakes are so high.
I didn’t lock you up in any chest, except that one where you’re not (though I still feel as if you are): within the gentle enclosure of my own heart, from where you can come and go at will.
I’m afraid that you’ll be stolen even from there, because even truth turns to a thief when the stakes are so high.