More Shakespeare's Sonnets
By Fox-Trot-9

Sonnet 112: Fair Youth
(Names Ignoble: Acrostic 2)

Even when I betake myself into
A temporary peace within the shade,
Dust shall be my predestined lot unto
Eternity, in which my dreams shall fade;
And with them goes my confidence and pride
To set my spirit free from needless pain,
Here to relive my sorrows as I hide,
Lost to a world that left me in disdain.
Evan as storms of self-willed hatred passes,
Succumbing to the folds of soft despair,
Some things can never satisfy the masses'
Lusting to judge their peers in false compare:
      On this, I must attempt to raise my lot
      To better things before it comes to nought.

(Quoted) Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot,
—William Cowper

(To be continued...)

A/N: Here's the next installment in this 4-sonnet acrostic... It's been a while since I last attempted anything like this, so I hope the sonnet reads smoothly even with the added restriction of an acrostic...