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III

Shakespeare Capriccio (2)

II

‘Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very face
Is it beauty's face or one true name
That flies in heaven’s sweetest air
Lifting a thousand groans afoot, running hares
Oh, do not, if thou issueless shall have to die
Whereupon I live with fraudulent infection
A dove has escaped this sorrow, not my heart
To a music, blurred by chill gray
Into a closet never pieced with crystal
Eyes

Shakespeare Capriccio

I

"Fair, kind, and true," says Shakespeare
"Fast, kindle, and toon," varying to other sphere
Against death, and all-oblivious quantity
My Muse has grown with this growing quality
"I hate, I hate", her alteration singed
Upon snow with ashing glow not esteemed
A ball from snow away she threw,
Over the rainbow it went willful-slow
The miles are measured falling and fell
Thy end is truth and beauty dooms