Sonnet VI. [Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,]

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thy self to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
      Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
      To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

Published in Shakespeare's Sonnets

Tags: carpe diem, death

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.