Sonnet 108: What's In The Brain That Ink May Character Poem by William Shakespeare
Sonnet 108: What's In The Brain That Ink May Character
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy, but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old—thou mine, I thine—
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
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4/19/2024 2:18:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Is there anything new to express, anything which might enhance his love, or the mutual love of lover and beloved? The conclusion is that, since love has been eternised, and always was eternal, the same prayers of devotion may be repeated over and over again, and love will remain fresh and green for ever, despite the ravages of time and ageing. In effect nothing has changed, and the first impulses of love, which brought into being their divine affection, remains as vital as ever, and with some surprise and joy the poet greets this discovery, and justifies once more to his friend the constancy and depth of his love, expressed though it is in old and worn out phrases.