Back to Index

Sonnet XIX. [Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,]

by William Shakespeare, 1609

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
      Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,
      My love shall in my verse ever live young.

Published in Shakespeare's Sonnets
Tags:

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