O, how I faint when I of you do write, <br />Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, <br />And in the praise thereof spends all his might <br />To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame. <br />But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, <br />The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, <br />My saucy bark, inferior far to his, <br />On your broad main doth wilfully appear. <br />Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, <br />Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; <br />Or, being wrecked, I am a worthless boat, <br />He of tall building, and of goodly pride. <br /> Then if he thrive and I be cast away, <br /> The worst was this: my love was my decay.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-80-o-how-i-faint-when-i-of-you-do-write/
