Sonnet 47 by Barnabe Barnes

Give me my Heart! For no man liveth heartles!
And now deprived of heart I am but dead,
(And since thou hast it, in his tables read!
Whether he rest at ease, in joys and smartless?
Whether beholding him thine eyes were dartless?
Or to what bondage his enthralment leads?)
Return, dear Heart! and me to mine restore!
Ah, let me thee possess! Return to me!
I find no means, devoid of skill and artless.
Thither return, where thou triumphed before!
Let me of him but repossessor be!
And when thou gives to me mine heart again
Thyself thou dost bestow! For thou art She!
Whom I call Heart! and of whom I complain.

From: http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/barnes

Date: 1593

By: Barnabe Barnes (?1569-1609)

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