Brrrr...'tis a bitter chill that doth bite at your Will in Londoun this eve, groundlyngs, and 'tis the longest night of the year. Mayhap I shall finde me some good companie at Blackfriar's and warm my belly with some Ypocras.
Here is mine sonnet 97, which doth tell of waste and winter-tide. If thou need'st some aide in thy readinge, thou canst finde it here:
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/97
No comments:
Post a Comment