Sonnet 14
b'
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons\\u2019 quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
\\u2019Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 Thy end is truth\\u2019s and beauty\\u2019s doom and date.