Sonnet Xxv

William Shakespeare

     Let those who are in favour with their stars
     Of public honour and proud titles boast,
     Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
     Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
     Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
     But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
     And in themselves their pride lies buried,
     For at a frown they in their glory die.
     The painful warrior famoused for fight,
     After a thousand victories once foil'd,
     Is from the book of honour razed quite,
     And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd:
     Then happy I, that love and am beloved
     Where I may not remove nor be removed.

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