But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair, Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. To give away yourself keeps yourself still, And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER SHOWER by EMILY DICKINSON ROBIN ADAIR by CAROLINE KEPPEL SONNET: 42 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE by ALFRED TENNYSON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 5. BY LITTLE AND LITTLE by PHILIP AYRES ON THE NIGHT EXPRESS by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY |