Monday, October 26, 2015

Sonnet CLIV (154)

The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire 
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd;
And so the general of hot desire 
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by, 
Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, 
Growing a bath and healthful remedy 
For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall,
   Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
   Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

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