SONNET #37

by: William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

S a decrepit father takes delight

To see his active child do deeds of youth,

So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,

Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,

Or any of these all, or all, or more,

Intitled in thy parts to crownèd sit,

I make my love ingrafted to this store.

So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised

Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give

That I in thy abundance am sufficed

And by a part of all thy glory live.

Look what is best, that best I wish in thee.

This wish I have; then ten times happy me!