William Shakespeare<\/p>\n
How oft when thou, my music, music play’st,
\nUpon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
\nWith thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st
\nThe wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
\nDo I envy those jacks that nimble leap,
\nTo kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
\nWhilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,
\nAt the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!
\nTo be so tickled, they would change their state
\nAnd situation with those dancing chips,
\nO’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
\nMaking dead wood more bless’d than living lips.
\nSince saucy jacks so happy are in this,
\nGive them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
William Shakespeare How oft when thou, my music, music play’st, Upon that 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, … Continue reading