Soft do the charméd tales of fetter'd mind
Right to the heart's true wisdom turn about
And yet to joy the tongue shall not be blind
Whilst truly doth the voice such bliss give out.
Heaven hath not pleasure for the heart
Which timely shall our greater losses latch
Alas, for e'en unto the greater part
Shall we not breathe, lest drop we fast our catch.
In darkness do we seek the truest sight
Else shrink our eyes from well nigh evr'y creature
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night
Which in our darkest dreams shall ever feature.
If ever I do lose that sound of you
So shall I speak for ever more untrue.
Grumio
It is recognised by his fellow-habitués of the Dog and Duck in Soho that this poet is equally at home with rondeau or triolet, and on the evidence of this elegant piece he is also a fast man with a sonnet. He has cheekily lifted one of his fourteen lines in its entirety from WS and his pastiche is so accurate that it is difficult to decide which one it is.
