a poem :)

Sonnet 60

William Shakespeare

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,

So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before,

In sequent toils all forwards do contend.

Nativity once in the main of light,

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,

Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,

And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

And delves the parallels in beauty's brow

Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:

                And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,

          Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

I love this poem! :) Comment and let me know what you think it means! and then if no one gets it or you give up or you don't comment or something...I will do another blog post and tell you what it means (this is a poem for school so my teacher explained it to us, that is how I know! :D)

Have a good night!

xoxo,

Luanna Joy