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by William Shakespeare

Let those who are in favor with their stars

Of public honor and proud titles boast,

Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars

Unlook'd for joy in that I honor most.

Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spread

But as the marigold at the sun's eye,

And in themselves their pride lies buried,

For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,

After a thousand victories once foiled,

Is from the book of honor razed quite,

And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:

Then happy I, that love and am beloved,

Where I may not remove nor be removed.

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Sonnet 25

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