“When my love swears that she is made of truth”
WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 5
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love’s ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old? 10
O! love’s best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I ’ll lie
with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults
in love thus smother’d be.
I love Shakespeare's sonnets. This one reminds me of how much a young person would always try to convince themselves of the only truth they would ever believe in. That the woman he loves feels the same way despite of all the lies that she could be made of.
Ah, to love with a fire of a thousand suns.
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