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About this text

  • Title: The Sonnets (Modern)
  • Editor: Michael Best

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Michael Best
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Sonnets (Modern)

    103
    Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
    That, having such a scope to show her pride,
    The argument all bare is of more worth
    1535Than when it hath my added praise beside.
    O blame me not if I no more can write!
    Look in your glass, and there appears a face
    That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
    Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
    1540Were it not sinful, then, striving to mend,
    To mar the subject that before was well?
    For to no other pass my verses tend
    Than of your graces and your gifts to tell.
    And more, much more, than in my verse can sit
    1545 Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.
    104
    To me, fair friend, you never can be old;
    For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
    Such seems your beauty still: three winters cold
    1550Have from the forests shook three summers' pride;
    Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
    In process of the seasons have I seen;
    Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
    Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
    1555Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
    Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
    So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
    Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived;
    For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,
    1560 Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
    105
    Let not my love be called idolatry,
    Nor my beloved as an idol show,
    Since all alike my songs and praises be
    1565To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
    Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind,
    Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
    Therefore my verse, to constancy confined,
    One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
    1570Fair, kind, and true is all my argument;
    Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words,
    And in this change is my invention spent,
    Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
    Fair, kind, and true have often lived alone,
    1575 Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.