My love is as a fever, longing still - William Shakespeare
My love is as a fever, longing still - William Shakespeare
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the sill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly express’d;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
About the Creator
John Lennon
Greetings, I'm a writer dedicated to crafting compelling stories. With a passion for storytelling, I explore various genres to create immersive experiences for readers. Join me on an adventure through the power of words and imagination.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.