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Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 15

|XV. |
|When I consider every thing that grows |
|Holds in perfection but a little moment, |
|That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows |
|Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; |
|When I perceive that men as plants increase, |
|Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky, |
|Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, |
|And wear their brave state out of memory; |
|Then the conceit of this inconstant stay |
|Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, |
|Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, |
|To change your day of youth to sullied night; |
| And all in war with Time for love of you, |
| As he takes from you, I engraft you new. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 16

|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. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 17

|XVII. |
|Who will believe my verse in time to come, |
|If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? |
|Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb |
|Which hides your life and shows not half your |
|parts. |
|If I could write the beauty of your eyes |
|And in fresh numbers number all your graces, |
|The age to come would say 'This poet lies: |
|Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly |
|faces.' |
|So should my papers yellow'd with their age |
|Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than |
|tongue, |
|And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage |
|And stretched metre of an antique song: |
| But were some child of yours alive that time, |
| You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 18

|XVIII. |
|Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? |
|Thou art more lovely and more temperate: |
|Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, |
|And summer's lease hath all too short a |
|Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, |
|And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; |
|And every fair from fair sometime declines, |
|By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; |
|But thy eternal summer shall not fade |
|Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; |
|Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,|
| |
|When in eternal lines to time thou growest: |
| So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, |
| So long lives this and this gives life to thee.|

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 19

|XIX. |
|Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, |
|And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; |
|Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's |
|jaws, |
|And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; |
|Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, |
|And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, |
|To the wide world and all her fading sweets; |
|But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: |
|O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, |
|Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; |
|Him in thy course untainted do allow |
|For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. |
| Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,|
| |
| My love shall in my verse ever live young. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 20

|XX. |
|A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted |
|Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; |
|A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted |
|With shifting change, as is false women's |
|fashion; |
|An eye more bright than theirs, less false in |
|rolling, |
|Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; |
|A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling, |
|Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.|
| |
|And for a woman wert thou first created; |
|Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, |
|And by addition me of thee defeated, |
|By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. |
| But since she prick'd thee out for women's |
|pleasure, |
| Mine be thy love and thy love's use their |
|treasure. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 21

|XXI. |
|So is it not with me as with that Muse |
|Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, |
|Who heaven itself for ornament doth use |
|And every fair with his fair doth rehearse |
|Making a couplement of proud compare, |
|With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich |
|gems, |
|With April's first-born flowers, and all things |
|rare |
|That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. |
|O' let me, true in love, but truly write, |
|And then believe me, my love is as fair |
|As any mother's child, though not so bright |
|As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air: |
| Let them say more than like of hearsay well; |
| I will not praise that purpose not to sell. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 22

|XXII. |
|My glass shall not persuade me I am old, |
|So long as youth and thou are of one date; |
|But when in thee time's furrows I behold, |
|Then look I death my days should expiate. |
|For all that beauty that doth cover thee |
|Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, |
|Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: |
|How can I then be elder than thou art? |
|O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary |
|As I, not for myself, but for thee will; |
|Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary |
|As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. |
| Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; |
| Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

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