William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Xvi - Poem by William Shakespeare

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.

Comments about Sonnet Xvi by William Shakespeare

  • Rookie - 184 Points Brian Jani (4/26/2014 3:29:00 PM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out  (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 10 Points 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 »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: war, happy, time, life, sonnet, flower

Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001

Poem Edited: Monday, May 21, 2001

[Hata Bildir]