SONETOS 12/20  

Posted by Nelson Palitot

12

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, all silver'd 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.

13

O! that you were yourself; but, love, you are 
No longer yours than you yourself here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare, 
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
 Find no determination; then you were 
Yourself again, after yourself's decease, 
When your sweet issue your sweet form shouldbear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, 
Which husbandry in honour might uphold 
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day 
And barren rage of death's eternal cold? 
O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know 
You had a father: let-your son say so.

14

Not from the stars do 
I my judgment pluck; And yet methinks 
I have astronomy, 
But not to tell of good or evil luck, 
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, 
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
 Or say with princes if it shall go well, 
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, 
And, constant stars, in them I read such art 
As 'Truth and beauty shall together thrive, 
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;' 
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
'Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.'

15
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge state presenteth nought butshows 
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase, 
Cheered and check'd e'en by the self-same sky, 
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, 
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay 
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, 
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, 
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And, all in war with Time for love of you,
 As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

16

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rime?
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 yourself in eyes of men.
 To give away yourself keeps yourself still;
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

17

Who will believe my verse in time to come,
 If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
 Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
 Which hides your life and shows not half yourparts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes 
And in fresh numbers number all your graces, 
The age to come would say, 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthlyfaces.
'So should my papers, yellow'd with their age, 
Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue, 
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage 
And stretched metre of an antique song: 
But were some child of yours alive that time, 
You should live twice,—in it and in my rime.

18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
 And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
 And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
By chance, or nature's changing course un- trimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, 
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in hisshade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; 
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, 
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

19

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, 
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
 And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, 
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
Fo the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
 Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow 
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 
Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, 
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

20

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted 
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
 With shifting change, as is false women'sfashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false inrolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; 
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
 Which steals men's eyes and women's soulsamazeth. 
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
 And by addition me of thee defeated, 
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. 
But since she prick'd thee out for women'spleasure, 
Mine be thy love, and thy love's use theirtreasure.

This entry was posted on terça-feira, 24 de fevereiro de 2009 at 19:46 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

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