Shakespearean Sonnet #2
Here’s Sonnet #2 from Willy Shakes. Hi, I’m a philistine.
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now,
Will be a totter’d weed of small worth held:
Then being asked, where all they beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,
If thou couldst answer ‘This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,’
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.
Read on, everyone. I’ll post a sonnet every few days or so. Maybe there will be a time where I’ll post a lot of them in the same day. Shakespeare makes you want to both read on and then immediately do anything else to digest its majesty. Great stuff. Have a quality afternoon, all.