Caught up in gloated glory, now I’m blind:
I think I’m much too good and much too great.
My work seems perfect, unattainable
Because my pride’s so strong it clouds my mind.
Ah Modesty, you virtuous maiden, you.
How difficult you are for me to seize...
How virginal and honest you are still…
How difficult to imitate and prove…
Alas, how sad, how sad for you, my dear.
You are the ultimate in virtue, yet ignored.
Shunned by society, by all you see -
Then, ignorant of you, their dreams are sheared.
Ha, cruel you are, you virtuous maiden, you!
The ones who spurn you spurn their fortune too!
365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)
You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)
- Sonnet XXXII
- Sonnet XXXIII
- Sonnet XXXIV
- Sonnet XXXV
- Sonnet XXXVI
- Sonnet XXXVII
- Sonnet XXXVIII
- Sonnet XXXIX
- Sonnet XL
- Sonnet XLI
- Sonnet XLII
- Sonnet XLIII
- Sonnet XLIV
- Sonnet XLV
- Sonnet XLVI
- Sonnet XLVII
- Sonnet XLVIII
- Sonnet XLIX
- Sonnet L
- Sonnet LI
- Sonnet LII
- Sonnet LIII
- Sonnet LIV
- Sonnet LV
- Sonnet LVI
- Sonnet LVII
- Sonnet LVIII
- Sonnet LIX
- Sonnet LX
- ▼ February 2008 (29)
- ► 2009 (14)
- ► 2010 (16)