William Shakespeare, Sonnet lxxx
O, how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in the praise thereof spends all his might,
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To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame!
But since your worth (wide as the ocean is)
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy bark, inferior far to his,
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On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;
Or, being wreck'd , I am a worthless boat,
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He, of tall building, and of goodly pride:
Then if he thrive, and I be cast away,
The worst was this; -- my love was my decay.