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 Boys of Summer

    by Trink

  • Poem: Epiphany

    Unearthly lightening of presage In any dark day's iron age May come to lift the hair and bless Even our tired earthliness, And sundown bring an…

  • Poem: Twelfth Night

    It has always been King Herod that I feared; King Herod and his kinsmen, ever since ... I do not like the colour of your beard; I think that you are…

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.