Sonnets by William Shakespeare

Shakespeare's Sonnets

written by William Shakespeare

[128] "How oft, when though, my music, music play'st

Upon the blessed wood whose motion sounds

With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st

The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,

Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood's boldness by the blushing stand.

To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips

O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blessed than living lips.

Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give me thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.