Sonnet 25

Let those who are in favour with their stars

Of public honour and proud titles boast,

Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,

Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.

Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread

But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,

And in themselves their pride lies burièd,

For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,

After a thousand victories, once foil’d,

Is from the book of honour razèd quite,

And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d:

Then happy I, that love and am beloved,

Where I may not remove, nor be removed.

Let those who have found favor with the stars

Boast of their luck, be proud of their reputations,

While I, who have come across fewer open doors,

Seek joy in lower situations.

The prince shows off his marigolds,

And beauty makes them affable,

But what is a weed in the sun’s fields—

Its pride short-lived, almost laughable.

And will the soldier at the front of the fight

Be cared for when he loses a battle?

What will the meaning be of his might

When he’s thrown from history’s saddle?

So happy am I, just to be living,

With love I can’t change, receiving or giving.