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 tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy 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 deserved 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.
Sonnet Ii: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow
William Shakespeare
(1)
Poem topics: child, feel, field, small, answer, cold, treasure, excuse, warm, shame, worth, youth, deep, thine, beauty, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< Sonnet 95: How Sweet And Lovely Dost Thou Make The Shame Poem
Sonnet 13: O, That You Were Your Self! But, Love, You Are Poem>>
Write your comment about Sonnet Ii: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow poem by William Shakespeare
Best Poems of William Shakespeare