Treasure Island

William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now


Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn;
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Peter J White (2/18/2009 1:38:00 AM)

    Good advice to us all. Those who feel it does not apply to them had better not plan on growing old. And see how it pours sweetly from the tongue in a golden cascade of words. Truly Shakespeare is the world's master of this poetic form. (Report) Reply

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