Luyện nghe bài hát Viii. Escalation - C - (sonnet Xxvii)

Weary toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs travel tired;
But then begins a in my head,
To work my mind, when work's expired:
For then my thoughts, far where I abide,
Intend a zealous to thee,
And keep my drooping open wide,
Looking on which the blind do see
Save that my imaginary sight
thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in night,
Makes night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by my mind,
For thee and for myself no find.