Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET, by ETIENNE DE LA BOETIE



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SONNET, by            
First Line: Many say of me, why does he complain
Last Line: Meanwhile, who grief forbid should give relief.


MANY say of me, why does he complain,
Losing his best years for so slight an ill?
Why mourn so loud, if hope he harbours still;
If nought he hopes, why not content remain?

When whole and free, I used the selfsame strain,
But surely he has little wit or skill,
Or else his heart do pride and malice fill,
Who blames my grief, but reckons not my pain.

Love, with a hundred pangs, has stabbed me through,
And still they bid me my complaints subdue.
I'm not so mad as to increase my grief

By speaking. Only my lost peace restore,
Sonnets and songs I quit for evermore;
Meanwhile, who grief forbid should give relief.





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