The Place 2 Be

Critique of Sonnet 12
SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS


When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls ensilvered o'er with white;


When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,


And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard:


Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
And die as fast as they see others grow;


And nothing 'gainst time's scythe can make defence
Save breed to brave him when he takes thee hence.


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