Shakespeare's Acrimony
I don't doubt
That the stars are fire
Or the sun doth move
I doubt
That you love
Half as much as I
And you'll compare me
To a summers day
But I am not lovely
Or more temperate
By any other name
I would not smell as sweet
This is the west
Far away from the sun
And I am the envious moon
Thinking doth not make this so
No thinking can determine
Good or bad
For there is only bad
And there is no method
To this madness
I hath tasted death
Many o' time
And thought it well
For I hath seen
The pretty follies
That I myself commit
For I am not blinded
By my love