Sonnet 126: O Thou, My Lovely Boy, Who In Thy Power Poem by William Shakespeare
Sonnet 126: O Thou, My Lovely Boy, Who In Thy Power
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May Time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep her treasure.
Her audit, though delayed, answered must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.
Dante Gabriel Rosetti wrote in 1882: '' There should be an essential reform in the printing of Shakespeare's sonnets. After sonnet CXXV should occur the words End of Part I. The couplet piece, numbered CXXVI, should be called Epilogue to Part I. Then, before CXXVII, should be printed Part II. After CLII should be put End of Part II - and the last two sonnets should be called Epilogue to Part II. '' ..
.. A Renaissance reader would perhaps be expected to discover these points by an attentive reading of the sonnets, and by knowing what to look for within the conventions of sonneteering. It is in fact generally agreed nowadays that this is a farewell sonnet, and that it brings to a close the main group of sonnets addressed to the fair youth. It does not follow the pattern of the other sonnets, being a series of six rhyming couplets, although it still gives the overall impression of being constructed in quatrains, and of having a concluding couplet. The reason for the bracketed blank lines in the original publication is not known. The poet addresses the youth in loving terms and surveys the years of his growing older. It appears that his ageing has augmented his own beauty, and by doing so it has also emphasised the deterioration and decay of his admirers. Nature has been in love with him and has sequestered him away from the ravages of time. Yet she cannot do so forever, and soon must yield him up and give an account of how she has used her treasure. The settling of the account is perhaps something to be dreaded, and the poet is solicitous for his beloved. shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/23/2024 10:59:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
say it's a great great poem She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May Time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! great loving me 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++