Sonnet 153: Cupid Laid By His Brand And Fell Asleep
William Shakespeare
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep, A maid of Dian’s this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love A dateless lively heat still to endure, And grew a seeting bath, which yet men prove Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. But at my mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, And thither hied a sad distempered guest, But found no cure. The bath for my help lies Where Cupid got new fire—my mistress’ eyes.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 154: The Little Love-god Lying Once Asleep
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 16: But Wherefore Do Not You A Mightier Way
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 17: Who Will Believe My Verse In Time To Come
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 18: Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 19: Devouring Time Blunt Thou The Lion's Paws
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 2: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 20: A Woman's Face With Nature's Own Hand Painted
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 21: So Is It Not With Me As With That Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 22: My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 23: As An Unperfect Actor On The Stage
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 152: In Loving Thee Thou Know'st I Am Forsworn
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 151: Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 150: O From What Power Hast Thou This Powerful Might
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 15: When I Consider Every Thing That Grows
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 149: Canst Thou, O Cruel, Say I Love Thee Not
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 148: O Me! What Eyes Hath Love Put In My Head
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 147: My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 146: Poor Soul, The Centre Of My Sinful Earth
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 145: Those Lips That Love's Own Hand Did Make
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 144: Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair