Sonnet 102
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear:That love is merchandized whose rich esteemingThe owner's tongue doth publish every where.Our love was new and then but in the springWhen I was wont to greet it with my lays,As Philomel in summer's front doth singAnd stops her pipe in growth of riper days:Not that the summer is less pleasant nowThan when her mournful hymns did hush the night,But that wild music burthens every boughAnd sweets grown common lose their dear delight. Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, Because I would not dull you with my song.
I silently savor the sweetnessof love, for within its repletenessI can leave lays unsungand find work for my tonguethat requires less lexical neatness.