My Favorite of Shakespeare's Sonnets . . .

(This is the last of the scheduled Poetry Project posts)

I've posted this poem before (on last year's anniversary)

 and my interpretation is a bit different than most I've read.

Others speak of deceit between lovers to facilitate gain - of love or comfort.

But I see the truth that exists only in the eyes of the loved one.

When I look into the eyes of my husband of twenty three years, I see beauty, strength, and passion. 
Together we are young and full of life. 

A lie? Perhaps. But deceit? never.

Thank you, William.

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed:
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told:
   Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
   And in our faults by lies we flattered be.