William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)
Sonnet 13: O, that you were your self! But, love, you are
O, that you were your self! 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.
Comments about this poem (Sonnet 13: O, that you were your self! But, love, you are by William Shakespeare )
People who read William Shakespeare also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley