by: William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
      ORD of my love, to whom in vassalage
      Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
      To thee I send this written ambassage
      To witness duty, not to show my wit;
      Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine
      May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,
      But that I hope some good coneit of thine
      In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;
      Till whatsoever star that guides my moving
      Points on me graciously with fair aspect,
      And puts apparel on my tottered loving
      To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:
      Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;
      Till then not show my head where thou mayest prove me.