Sonnet 100

Lyrics
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 Dark'ning 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 dеcay And make Time's spoils despisеd every where Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life; So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife
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Credits
- Writers
- William Shakespeare