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Sonnet 128

           ,           ,        ,       ,         ,
      How oft | when thou,| my mus|ic, mus|ic playst,
         ,          ,        ,           ,         ,
      Upon | that bles|sed wood | whose^mo|tion sounds
                   ,    ,         ,          ,         ,
      With thy / sweet fing|ers when | thou gen|tly swayst
           ,     ,          ,          ,         ,
      The wi|ry con|cord* that | mine^ear | confounds,
       ,      ,             ,           ,        ,
      Do I | envy | those^jacks | that nim|ble leap,
           ,         ,       ,       ,         ,
      To kiss | the tend|er in|ward of | thy hand,
              ,           ,             ,           ,         ,
      Whilst^my | poor* lips | which^should | that harv|est reap,
                 ,      ,        ,          ,         ,
      At the / wood's bold|ness by | thee blush|ing stand.
          ,        ,         ,             ,             ,
      To be | so tick|led, they | would change | their state
           ,   ,        ,           ,         ,
      And sit|ua|tion with | those dan|cing chips,
            ,         ,         ,          ,        ,
      Ore whom | thy fing|ers walk | with gent|le gait,
                  ,    ,             ,            ,        ,
      *Making / dead wood | more* blessed | than liv|ing lips.  ??
             ,       ,         ,      ,         ,
      Since^sau|cy jacks | so hap|py are | in this,
             ,         ,         ,         ,         ,
      Give^them | thy fing|ers, me | thy lips | to kiss.

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