Sonnet 16

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self 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 you 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 your self in eyes of men
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill



Credits
Writer(s): Tc Schultz
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link