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William Shakespeare - Sonnet 100: "Where art thou Muse that thou forget`st so long,..."
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Where art thou Muse that thou forget`st so long,
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend`st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love`s sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time`s spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
So thou prevent`st his scythe and crooked knife.
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