Not From The Stars Do I My Judgment Pluck (Sonnet 14)


by William Shakespeare

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' quality; 
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, 
Pointing 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: 
Or else of thee this I prognosticate, 
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.