Sonnet CCLXXXIX:
This was my lady’s birthday, and yet I
At dawn heard not the cannon’s brazen throat,
Nor saw the fluttering standards give the note
Due to her feast, my heart’s solemnity.
Only the sun rose, and the fiery sky
Throbbed with the lark; and yet no cressets float
Their burning freight tonight; only her boat
The moon is steering through the stars on high.
Great Nature does thee reverence, Queen divine,
And I, thy poet, by thy love made strong,
Will do the rights that to thy state belong.
Yea, when today’s renowns no longer shine,
Thy fame shall volley through this sounding line,
And blaze a beacon in this quenchless song.
