Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soul

 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage; Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes; And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

by William Shakespeare
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soulEmail Poem |
Comment below this ad.

Top William Shakespeare Poems