Explore "Sonnets of Shakespeare's Ghost" by Gregory Thornton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Yet, being so chill'd, do we not chide the sun, / And say he wilful hides his face away, / Say 'tis his will makes the world drear and dun, / And takes the golden glory from the day? / The envious rack we rather should reproach, / That comes betwixt us in despite of him, / Rebellious powers, that on his reign encroach, / And, black themselves, his brightness joy to dim.
So when the troubling mischiefs of the time, / Or baser minds, bent upon marring thee, / Stole moments of thy favour, then my rhyme / Slander'd thy love and slurr'd thy constancy.