Poems and Extracts/Sonnet (2)
For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 31 (Shakespeare).
Sonnet
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns love and all lovers loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed, that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,10
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov'd I view in thee
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.