Сонеты Шекспира

|By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. |

|I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, |

|Although thou steal thee all my poverty; |

|And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief |

|To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. |

| Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, |

| Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 41

|XLI. |

|Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, |

|When I am sometime absent from thy heart, |

|Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, |

|For still temptation follows where thou art. |

|Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, |

|Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; |

|And when a woman woos, what woman's son |

|Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed? |

|Ay me! but yet thou mightest my seat forbear, |

|And chide try beauty and thy straying youth, |

|Who lead thee in their riot even there |

|Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth, |

| Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee, |

| Thine, by thy beauty being false to me. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 42 |

|XLII. |

|That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, |

|And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; |

|That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, |

|A loss in love that touches me more nearly. |

|Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: |

|Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her; |

|And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, |

|Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. |

|If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, |

|And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; |

|Both find each other, and I lose both twain, |

|And both for my sake lay on me this cross: |

| But here's the joy; my friend and I are one; |

| Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone. |

| |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 43 |

|XLIII. |

|When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, |

|For all the day they view things unrespected; |

|But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, |

|And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. |

|Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, |

|How would thy shadow's form form happy show |

|To the clear day with thy much clearer light, |

|When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! |

|How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made |

|By looking on thee in the living day, |

|When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade |

|Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! |

| All days are nights to see till I see thee, |

| And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 44

|XLIV. |

|If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, |

|Injurious distance should not stop my way; |

|For then despite of space I would be brought, |

|From limits far remote where thou dost stay. |

|No matter then although my foot did stand |

|Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; |

|For nimble thought can jump both sea and land |

|As soon as think the place where he would be. |

|But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought, |

|To leap large lengths of miles when thou art |

|gone, |

|But that so much of earth and water wrought |

|I must attend time's leisure with my moan, |

| Receiving nought by elements so slow |

| But heavy tears, badges of either's woe. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 45

|XLV. |

|The other two, slight air and purging fire, |

|Are both with thee, wherever I abide; |

|The first my thought, the other my desire, |

|These present-absent with swift motion slide. |

|For when these quicker elements are gone |

|In tender embassy of love to thee, |

|My life, being made of four, with two alone |

|Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; |

|Until life's composition be recured |

|By those swift messengers return'd from thee, |

|Who even but now come back again, assured |

|Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: |

| This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, |

| I send them back again and straight grow sad. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 46

|XLVI. |

|Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war |

|How to divide the conquest of thy sight; |

|Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, |

|My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. |

|My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie-- |

|A closet never pierced with crystal eyes-- |

|But the defendant doth that plea deny |

|And says in him thy fair appearance lies. |

|To 'cide this title is impanneled |

|A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, |

|And by their verdict is determined |

|The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part:|

| |

| As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, |

| And my heart's right thy inward love of heart. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 47

|XLVII. |

|Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, |

|And each doth good turns now unto the other: |

|When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, |

|Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,|

| |

|With my love's picture then my eye doth feast |

|And to the painted banquet bids my heart; |

|Another time mine eye is my heart's guest |

|And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: |

|So, either by thy picture or my love, |

|Thyself away art resent still with me; |

|For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,|

| |

|And I am still with them and they with thee; |

| Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight |

| Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 48

|XLVIII. |

|How careful was I, when I took my way, |

|Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, |

|That to my use it might unused stay |

|From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! |

|But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, |

|Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief, |

|Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, |

|Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. |

|Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, |

|Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, |

|Within the gentle closure of my breast, |

|From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;|

| |

| And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear, |

| For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 49

|XLIX. |

|Against that time, if ever that time come, |

|When I shall see thee frown on my defects, |

|When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, |

|Call'd to that audit by advised respects; |

|Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass |

|And scarcely greet me with that sun thine eye, |

|When love, converted from the thing it was, |

|Shall reasons find of settled gravity,-- |

|Against that time do I ensconce me here |

|Within the knowledge of mine own desert, |

|And this my hand against myself uprear, |

|To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: |

| To leave poor me thou hast the strength of |

|laws, |

| Since why to love I can allege no cause. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 50

|L. |

|How heavy do I journey on the way, |

|When what I seek, my weary travel's end, |

|Doth teach that ease and that repose to say |

|'Thus far the miles are measured from thy |

|friend!' |

|The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, |

|Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, |

|As if by some instinct the wretch did know |

|His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: |

|The bloody spur cannot provoke him on |

|That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; |

|Which heavily he answers with a groan, |

|More sharp to me than spurring to his side; |

| For that same groan doth put this in my mind; |

| My grief lies onward and my joy behind. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 51

|LI. |

|Thus can my love excuse the slow offence |

|Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: |

|From where thou art why should I haste me thence?|

| |

|Till I return, of posting is no need. |

|O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, |

|When swift extremity can seem but slow? |

|Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind; |

|In winged speed no motion shall I know: |

|Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; |

|Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made, |

|Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race; |

|But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; |

| Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, |

| Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to |

|go. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 52

|LII. |

|So am I as the rich, whose blessed key |

|Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, |

|The which he will not every hour survey, |

|For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. |

|Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, |

|Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, |

|Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, |

|Or captain jewels in the carcanet. |

|So is the time that keeps you as my chest, |

|Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, |

|To make some special instant special blest, |

|By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. |

| Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, |

| Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 53 |

|LIII. |

|What is your substance, whereof are you made, |

|That millions of strange shadows on you tend? |

|Since every one hath, every one, one shade, |

|And you, but one, can every shadow lend. |

|Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit |

|Is poorly imitated after you; |

|On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, |

|And you in Grecian tires are painted new: |

|Speak of the spring and foison of the year; |

|The one doth shadow of your beauty show, |

|The other as your bounty doth appear; |

|And you in every blessed shape we know. |

| In all external grace you have some part, |

| But you like none, none you, for constant heart. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 54

|LIV. |

|O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem |

|By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! |

|The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem |

|For that sweet odour which doth in it live. |

|The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye |

|As the perfumed tincture of the roses, |

|Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly |

|When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:|

| |

|But, for their virtue only is their show, |

|They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, |

|Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; |

|Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: |

| And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, |

| When that shall fade, my verse distills your |

|truth. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 55

|LV. |

|Not marble, nor the gilded monuments |

|Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; |

|But you shall shine more bright in these contents|

| |

|Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time. |

|When wasteful war shall statues overturn, |

|And broils root out the work of masonry, |

|Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall |

|burn |

|The living record of your memory. |

|'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity |

|Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still |

|find room |

|Even in the eyes of all posterity |

|That wear this world out to the ending doom. |

| So, till the judgment that yourself arise, |

| You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 56

|LVI. |

|Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said |

|Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, |

|Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, |

|To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: |

|So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill |

|Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with |

|fullness, |

|To-morrow see again, and do not kill |

|The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. |

|Let this sad interim like the ocean be |

|Which parts the shore, where two contracted new |

|Come daily to the banks, that, when they see |

|Return of love, more blest may be the view; |

| Else call it winter, which being full of care |

| Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more|

|rare. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 57 |

|LVII. |

|Being your slave, what should I do but tend |

|Upon the hours and times of your desire? |

|I have no precious time at all to spend, |

|Nor services to do, till you require. |

|Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour |

|Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, |

|Nor think the bitterness of absence sour |

|When you have bid your servant once adieu; |

|Nor dare I question with my jealous thought |

|Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, |

|But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought |

|Save, where you are how happy you make those. |

| So true a fool is love that in your will, |

| Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. |

| |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 58 |

|LVIII. |

|That god forbid that made me first your slave, |

|I should in thought control your times of pleasure, |

|Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, |

|Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! |

|O, let me suffer, being at your beck, |

|The imprison'd absence of your liberty; |

|And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, |

|Without accusing you of injury. |

|Be where you list, your charter is so strong |

|That you yourself may privilege your time |

|To what you will; to you it doth belong |

|Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. |

| I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; |

| Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 59

|LIX. |

|If there be nothing new, but that which is |

|Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, |

|Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss |

|The second burden of a former child! |

|O, that record could with a backward look, |

|Even of five hundred courses of the sun, |

|Show me your image in some antique book, |

|Since mind at first in character was done! |

|That I might see what the old world could say |

|To this composed wonder of your frame; |

|Whether we are mended, or whether better they, |

|Or whether revolution be the same. |

| O, sure I am, the wits of former days |

| To subjects worse have given admiring praise. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 60

|LX. |

|Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,|

| |

|So do our minutes hasten to their end; |

|Each changing place with that which goes before, |

|In sequent toil all forwards do contend. |

|Nativity, once in the main of light, |

|Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, |

|Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, |

|And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. |

|Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth |

|And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, |

|Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, |

|And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: |

| And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, |

| Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 61

|LXI. |

|Is it thy will thy image should keep open |

|My heavy eyelids to the weary night? |

|Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, |

|While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? |

|Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee |

|So far from home into my deeds to pry, |

|To find out shames and idle hours in me, |

|The scope and tenor of thy jealousy? |

|O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: |

|It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; |

|Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, |

|To play the watchman ever for thy sake: |

| For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake |

|elsewhere, |

| From me far off, with others all too near. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 62

|LXII. |

|Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye |

|And all my soul and all my every part; |

|And for this sin there is no remedy, |

|It is so grounded inward in my heart. |

|Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, |

|No shape so true, no truth of such account; |

|And for myself mine own worth do define, |

|As I all other in all worths surmount. |

|But when my glass shows me myself indeed, |

|Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, |

|Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; |

|Self so self-loving were iniquity. |

| 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, |

| Painting my age with beauty of thy days. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 63

|LXIII. |

|Against my love shall be, as I am now, |

|With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn;|

| |

|When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his |

|brow |

|With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn |

|Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, |

|And all those beauties whereof now he's king |

|Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, |

|Stealing away the treasure of his spring; |

|For such a time do I now fortify |

|Against confounding age's cruel knife, |

|That he shall never cut from memory |

|My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: |

| His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, |

| And they shall live, and he in them still |

|green. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 64

|LXIV. |

|When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced |

|The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; |

|When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed |

|And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; |

|When I have seen the hungry ocean gain |

|Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, |

|And the firm soil win of the watery main, |

|Increasing store with loss and loss with store; |

|When I have seen such interchange of state, |

|Or state itself confounded to decay; |

|Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, |

|That Time will come and take my love away. |

| This thought is as a death, which cannot choose|

| |

| But weep to have that which it fears to lose. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 65

|LXV. |

|Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless |

|sea, |

|But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, |

|How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, |

|Whose action is no stronger than a flower? |

|O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out |

|Against the wreckful 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 Time's best jewel from Time's 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. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 66 |

|LXVI. |

|Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, |

|As, to behold desert a beggar born, |

|And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, |

|And purest faith unhappily forsworn, |

|And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, |

|And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, |

|And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, |

|And strength by limping sway disabled, |

|And art made tongue-tied by authority, |

|And folly doctor-like controlling skill, |

|And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, |

|And captive good attending captain ill: |

| Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, |

| Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. |

| |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 67 |

|LXVII. |

|Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, |

|And with his presence grace impiety, |

|That sin by him advantage should achieve |

|And lace itself with his society? |

|Why should false painting imitate his cheek |

|And steal dead seeing of his living hue? |

|Why should poor beauty indirectly seek |

|Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? |

|Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, |

|Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? |

|For she hath no exchequer now but his, |

|And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. |

| O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had |

| In days long since, before these last so bad. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 68

|LXVIII. |

|Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, |

|When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, |

|Before the bastard signs of fair were born, |

|Or durst inhabit on a living brow; |

|Before the golden tresses of the dead, |

|The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, |

|To live a second life on second head; |

|Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: |

|In him those holy antique hours are seen, |

|Without all ornament, itself and true, |

|Making no summer of another's green, |

|Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; |

| And him as for a map doth Nature store, |

| To show false Art what beauty was of yore. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 69

|LXIX. |

|Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth |

|view |

|Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;|

| |

|All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that |

|due, |

|Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. |

|Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; |

|But those same tongues that give thee so thine |

|own |

|In other accents do this praise confound |

|By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. |

|They look into the beauty of thy mind, |

|And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; |

|Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes|

|were kind, |

|To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: |

| But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, |

| The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 70

|LXX. |

|That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, |

|For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; |

|The ornament of beauty is suspect, |

|A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. |

|So thou be good, slander doth but approve |

|Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; |

|For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, |

|And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. |

|Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, |

|Either not assail'd or victor being charged; |

|Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, |

|To tie up envy evermore enlarged: |

| If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, |

| Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst |

|owe. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 71 |

|LXXI. |

|No longer mourn for me when I am dead |

|Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell |

|Give warning to the world that I am fled |

|From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: |

|Nay, if you read this line, remember not |

|The hand that writ it; for I love you so |

|That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot |

|If thinking on me then should make you woe. |

|O, if, I say, you look upon this verse |

|When I perhaps compounded am with clay, |

|Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. |

|But let your love even with my life decay, |

| Lest the wise world should look into your moan |

| And mock you with me after I am gone. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 72

|LXXII. |

|O, lest the world should task you to recite |

|What merit lived in me, that you should love |

|After my death, dear love, forget me quite, |

|For you in me can nothing worthy prove; |

|Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, |

|To do more for me than mine own desert, |

|And hang more praise upon deceased I |

|Than niggard truth would willingly impart: |

|O, lest your true love may seem false in this, |

|That you for love speak well of me untrue, |

|My name be buried where my body is, |

|And live no more to shame nor me nor you. |

| For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, |

| And so should you, to love things nothing |

|worth. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 73 |

|LXXIII. |

|That time of year thou mayst in me behold |

|When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang |

|Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, |

|Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. |

|In me thou seest the twilight of such day |

|As after sunset fadeth in the west, |

|Which by and by black night doth take away, |

|Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. |

|In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire |

|That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, |

|As the death-bed whereon it must expire |

|Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. |

| This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, |

| To love that well which thou must leave ere long. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 74

|LXXIV. |

|But be contented: when that fell arrest |

|Without all bail shall carry me away, |

|My life hath in this line some interest, |

|Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. |

|When thou reviewest this, thou dost review |

|The very part was consecrate to thee: |

|The earth can have but earth, which is his due; |

|My spirit is thine, the better part of me: |

|So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, |

|The prey of worms, my body being dead, |

|The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, |

|Too base of thee to be remembered. |

| The worth of that is that which it contains, |

| And that is this, and this with thee remains. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 75

|LXXV. |

|So are you to my thoughts as food to life, |

|Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; |

|And for the peace of you I hold such strife |

|As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; |

|Now proud as an enjoyer and anon |

|Doubting the filching age will steal his |

|treasure, |

|Now counting best to be with you alone, |

|Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;|

| |

|Sometime all full with feasting on your sight |

|And by and by clean starved for a look; |

|Possessing or pursuing no delight, |

|Save what is had or must from you be took. |

| Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, |

| Or gluttoning on all, or all away. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 76

|LXXVI. |

|Why is my verse so barren of new pride, |

|So far from variation or quick change? |

|Why with the time do I not glance aside |

|To new-found methods and to compounds strange? |

|Why write I still all one, ever the same, |

|And keep invention in a noted weed, |

|That every word doth almost tell my name, |

|Showing their birth and where they did proceed? |

|O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, |

|And you and love are still my argument; |

|So all my best is dressing old words new, |

|Spending again what is already spent: |

| For as the sun is daily new and old, |

| So is my love still telling what is told. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 77

|LXXVII. |

|Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, |

|Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; |

|The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, |

|And of this book this learning mayst thou taste. |

|The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show |

|Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; |

|Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know |

|Time's thievish progress to eternity. |

|Look, what thy memory can not contain |

|Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find|

| |

|Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, |

|To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. |

| These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, |

| Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 78

|LXXVIII. |

|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 |

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