Occasionally when I ponder the works of Shakespeare, it seems that he can be a bit verbose.
Sonnet #29 for example goes like this:
When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least,
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Which is all well and good, but it's verbose and in sonnet form. Sonnets are merely limericks that need to go on a diet.
Limerick #29
When alone I can get sort of blue,
And jealous of those with a clue,
I might wish I were smart
Or had some kind of art,
Then I think that I'm rich to have you.
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