at sea

Poem: Sonnet 60

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time, that gave, doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

- William Shakespeare
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

  • Poem: The Mother Bird

    - Walter de la Mare Through the green twilight of a hedge I peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed, And spied a bird upon a nest: Two eyes…

  • Poem: The moon on the one hand

    - Hilaire Belloc The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other: The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother. The moon on my left and the dawn…

  • Poem: as freedom is a breakfastfood

    - e.e. cummings as freedom is a breakfastfood or truth can live with right and wrong or molehills are from mountains made —long enough and…

If you haven't read Virginia Woolf's "The Waves" yet, I strongly recommend it.
I have--quite dense and layered. Not exactly my personal cup of tea, but excellent fodder for discussion.