William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet 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.

Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001
Edited: Monday, May 21, 2001

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  • Egal Bohen (11/28/2007 5:46:00 PM)

    To give your all to life says Will
    Within you keeps yourself, more ever still
    So battle not the wrinkles, but live life
    Make war with time, that tyrant
    For, in doing shall thy life be then fulfilled

    Great message Will! (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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