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SONNET CXXII
Thy gift, thy tables,
are within my brain
Full character'd with
lasting memory,
Which shall above that
idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even
to eternity:
Or at the least so long
as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature
to subsist;
Till each to raz'd oblivion
yield his part
Of thee, thy record never
can be miss'd.
That poor retention could
not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies, thy
dear love to score;
Therefore to give them
from me was I bold,
To trust those tables
that receive thee more:
To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
Were to import forgetfulness in me.