|Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: |
| Make thee another self, for love of me, |
| That beauty still may live in thine or thee. |
| |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 11
|XI. |
|As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest |
|In one of thine, from that which thou departest; |
|And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest|
| |
|Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth |
|convertest. |
|Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase: |
|Without this, folly, age and cold decay: |
|If all were minded so, the times should cease |
|And threescore year would make the world away. |
|Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, |
|Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish: |
|Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more; |
|Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty |
|cherish: |
| She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby|
| |
| Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy |
|die. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 12
|XII. |
|When I do count the clock that tells the time, |
|And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; |
|When I behold the violet past prime, |
|And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; |
|When lofty trees I see barren of leaves |
|Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, |
|And summer's green all girded up in sheaves |
|Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, |
|Then of thy beauty do I question make, |
|That thou among the wastes of time must go, |
|Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake |
|And die as fast as they see others grow; |
| And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make |
|defence |
| Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee |
|hence. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 13
|XIII. |
|O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are |
|No longer yours than you yourself here live: |
|Against this coming end you should prepare, |
|And your sweet semblance to some other give. |
|So should that beauty which you hold in lease |
|Find no determination: then you were |
|Yourself again after yourself's decease, |
|When your sweet issue your sweet form should |
|bear. |
|Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, |
|Which husbandry in honour might uphold |
|Against the stormy gusts of winter's day |
|And barren rage of death's eternal cold? |
| O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know |
| You had a father: let your son say so. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 14
|XIV. |
|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. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 15
|XV. |
|When I consider every thing that grows |
|Holds in perfection but a little moment, |
|That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows |
|Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; |
|When I perceive that men as plants increase, |
|Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky, |
|Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, |
|And wear their brave state out of memory; |
|Then the conceit of this inconstant stay |
|Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, |
|Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, |
|To change your day of youth to sullied night; |
| And all in war with Time for love of you, |
| As he takes from you, I engraft you new. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 16
|XVI. |
|But wherefore do not you a mightier way |
|Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? |
|And fortify yourself in your decay |
|With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? |
|Now stand you on the top of happy hours, |
|And many maiden gardens yet unset |
|With virtuous wish would bear your living |
|flowers, |
|Much liker than your painted counterfeit: |
|So should the lines of life that life repair, |
|Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, |
|Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, |
|Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. |
| To give away yourself keeps yourself still, |
| And you must live, drawn by your own sweet |
|skill. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 17
|XVII. |
|Who will believe my verse in time to come, |
|If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? |
|Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb |
|Which hides your life and shows not half your |
|parts. |
|If I could write the beauty of your eyes |
|And in fresh numbers number all your graces, |
|The age to come would say 'This poet lies: |
|Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly |
|faces.' |
|So should my papers yellow'd with their age |
|Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than |
|tongue, |
|And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage |
|And stretched metre of an antique song: |
| But were some child of yours alive that time, |
| You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 18
|XVIII. |
|Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? |
|Thou art more lovely and more temperate: |
|Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, |
|And summer's lease hath all too short a date: |
|Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, |
|And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; |
|And every fair from fair sometime declines, |
|By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; |
|But thy eternal summer shall not fade |
|Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; |
|Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,|
| |
|When in eternal lines to time thou growest: |
| So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, |
| So long lives this and this gives life to thee.|
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 19
|XIX. |
|Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, |
|And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; |
|Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's |
|jaws, |
|And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; |
|Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, |
|And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, |
|To the wide world and all her fading sweets; |
|But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: |
|O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, |
|Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; |
|Him in thy course untainted do allow |
|For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. |
| Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,|
| |
| My love shall in my verse ever live young. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 20
|XX. |
|A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted |
|Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; |
|A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted |
|With shifting change, as is false women's |
|fashion; |
|An eye more bright than theirs, less false in |
|rolling, |
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