Sonnet Lxxviii

William Shakespeare

     So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
     And found such fair assistance in my verse
     As every alien pen hath got my use
     And under thee their poesy disperse.
     Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing
     And heavy ignorance aloft to fly
     Have added feathers to the learned's wing
     And given grace a double majesty.
     Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
     Whose influence is thine and born of thee:
     In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
     And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
     But thou art all my art and dost advance
     As high as learning my rude ignorance.

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