| Sonnets xx | |
Poem By: William Shakespeare | Views: 56 | Word Count: 100 | View PDF | Print View |
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POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth--
My sinful earth these rebel powers array--
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men;
And Death once dead, there 's no more dying then.
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About the Author William Shakespeare (1564-1616) was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, a small country town. Stratford was famous for its malting. The black plague killed in 1564 one out of seven of the town's 1,500 inhabitants. Shakespeare was the eldest son of Mary Arden, the daughter of a local landowner, and her husband, John Shakespeare (c. 1530-1601), a glover and wood dealer. John Aubrey (1626-1697) tells in Brief Lives that Shakespeare's father was a butcher and the young William exercised his father's trade... Read William Shakespeare's Full Biography
More Poems By William Shakespeare
3: A Fairy Song
4: Sonnet V
6: Sonnet VI
7: Sonnet VII
8: Sonnet VIII
9: Sonnet X
10: Sonnet XC
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