Sonnet 76
By–William Shakespeare
Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside, To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
O! know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told.