#112

Ice, again  L  Today’s first sonnet:

________________________________________

CXII

  Your love and pity doth the impression fill,

  Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;

  For what care I who calls me well or ill,

  So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?

  You are my all-the-world, and I must strive

  To know my shames and praises from your tongue;

  None else to me, nor I to none alive,

  That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.

  In so profound abysm I throw all care

  Of others' voices, that my adder's sense

  To critic and to flatterer stopped are.

  Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:

    You are so strongly in my purpose bred,

    That all the world besides methinks are dead.

________________________________________

I wonder whether the verb o’er-green in line 4 was inspired by world in the next line (and also in the final line of the sonnet).  The voltas would be the mark at the beginning of line 12 and the that at the beginning of the final line.  More in the afternoon—