Sonnet 100

by William Shakespeare

C
Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long,
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st 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 love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time's spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.

<previous index next>

'Shakespeare's Sonnets and Poems' from Amazon.com




Subscribe with email

Sonnet delivery once a day

Your email address:

privacy policy: email addresses are never sold or given out to anybody

add Sonnet of the Day to your webpage

Daily Sonnet feed, facebook and twitter