The Sonnets
Sonnet 122
by William Shakespeare
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
As a decrepit father takes delight
If you were coming in the fall
How many times these low feet staggered
So am I as the rich whose blessed key
I noticed people disappeared
I read my sentence steadily
I had been hungry all the years;
The day came slow, till five o'clock
One need not be a chamber to be haunted
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
When I consider every thing that grows
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done
O how I faint when I of you do write
Against that time (if ever that time come)
The sun just touched the morning
Who will believe my verse in time to come
Alas ‘tis true, I have gone here and there
O for my sake do you with Fortune chide
When in the chronicle of wasted time
A bird came down the walk
Because I could not stop for Death
How heavy do I journey on the way
A gulf storm evokes memories of childhood.
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will