11,112,006,825,558,016 Sonnets(after Queneau)From fairest creatures we desire increase,Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, And barren rage of death's eternal cold? Or else of thee this I prognosticate: And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
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