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Sonnets > Sonnet #12, Week 35 (October 16)

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message 1: by Candy (new)

Candy | 2728 comments Mod
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 silvered 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.

message 2: by DavidE (new)

DavidE (shaxton) | 358 comments One of my favorite sonnets. The first eight lines are splendid in their graphic depiction of the passage of time, that brave day sunk in hideous night. Each line (save the first, I guess) does in a few concrete words what many a writer has failed to do in countless abstract words!

The last six lines may be all very conventional in their message, but the tone works very well, for me anyhow.

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