Sonnet 23

As has happened before, Shakespeare is able to express my jumbled-up feelings. A beautiful sonnet for a love confession.

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart,
So I, for fear of trust forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'er-charged with burden of mine own love's might.
O let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast
Who plead for love, and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
O learn to read what silent love hath writ
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.