A Sonnet

A Fan Letter to Shakespeare


The seed of devotion was boldly pinned
To my impression, soft with fancy youth,
Since once I sat hushed whilst the Moor confessed
In words more lordly than he be. In truth,
I gave my heart that night in full measure
To all kings and queens of thy gilded tongue.
Hence, time hath not diminished this pleasure
Which holds my senses when thy play’s begun.
Lo, I hath wept a thousand tears over
To drown beside Ophelia’s madness,
And Romeo’s hand in mine grown colder,
As you doth define the art of sadness.
      So be it ‘til this Kingdom’s fall,
      Of men, thy pen, reigns beyond all.



jeanne rené 11/04