Once upon a time, when I was a younger and more studious person, I wrote a Shakespearean sonnet. The speaker was Desdamona, pleading with Othello to see that she is a faithful wife. This was probably written in 1999, so it’s not exactly antique, but it is well on it’s way to being vintage.
Where has thou gone my loving lad, whom years
Ago I married? I must prithee boast
Thou not that I do change. Thou hast my tears
Seen course for thee as oft as tides meet coast.
As wife I am as drawn to thee as wave
By tide and time and nature finds her place.
My loves runs quick within my veins and grave;
On sacred alter vows I spoke with grace.
Of lightness then accuse me not husband.
My love must surge with all her force and might
To heard crash against thine shifting sand.
My love is constant, would thou only bend thy sight.
Then thou should see the ebb and flow of life,
The constant cycle of thy own true wife.