The Sonnets C - Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long

Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long,
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spendst thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my loves sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make times spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
So thou preventst his scythe and crooked knife.

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet, and actor, regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. Known as the 'Bard of Avon,' his extant works include approximately 39 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXXX - My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXIX - Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets XVIII - Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXII - Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Sonnets CI - O truant Muse what shall be thy amends

O truant Muse what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyd?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer Muse: wilt thou not haply say,
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixd;
Beauty no pencil, beautys truth to lay;
But best is best, if never intermixd?
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, fort lies in thee
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb
And to be praisd of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XVI - But wherefore do not you a mightier way

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self 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 you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Times pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXXVIII - How can my muse want subject to invent

How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pourst into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For whos so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thy self dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LXV - Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality oersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O! how shall summers honey breath hold out,
Against the wrackful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Times best jewel from Times chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O! none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LXXVIII - So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learneds wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose influence is thine, and born of thee:
In others works thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
But thou art all my art, and dost advance
As high as learning, my rude ignorance.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CVI - When in the chronicle of wasted time

When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rime,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beautys best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressd
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets C - Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long

Suggested Poems

The Sonnets C - Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long