Not from the stars do i my judgment pluck (sonnet 14)




Not from the stars do i my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks i have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can i fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that i in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge i derive,
And, constant stars, in them i read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this i prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

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