Sonnet 119
What potions have I drunk of Siren
tears
«William Shakespeare»
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears
Distilled from
limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to
hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I
saw my self to win!
What wretched errors
hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath
thought it self so blessed never!
How have mine eyes
out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of
this madding fever!
O benefit of ill, now
I find true
That better is, by
evil still made better.
And ruined love when
it is built anew
Grows fairer than at
first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuked
to my content,
And gain by ills
thrice more than I have spent.
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