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Sonnets > Sonnet #60, Week 63, May 8

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message 1: by Candy (new)

Candy | 2752 comments Mod
Against my love shall be as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn;
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night;
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.


message 2: by Candy (new)

Candy | 2752 comments Mod
I feel this poem is about the sun or seasons...as well as youth. I feel a sense of crushing. I literally did et tears in my eyes reading this sonnet today.

For me the metaphor is that youth is like a past season and energy is like the sun....but fading because it is going into winter.

HOURS is related to horoscope, and refers to divisions of twelve hours or division of season. Hours can mean season in Latin.

From Middle English houre, hour, oure, from Anglo-Norman houre, from Old French houre, (h)ore, from Latin hōra (“hour”), from Ancient Greek ὥρα (hṓra, “any time or period, whether of the year, month, or day”), from Proto-Indo-European *yeh₁- (“year, season”). Akin to Old English ġēar (“year”). Displaced native Middle English stunde, stound (“hour, moment, stound”) (from Old English stund (“hour, time, moment”)), Middle English ȝetid, tid (“hour, time”) from Old English *ġetīd, compare Old Saxon getīd (“hour, time”).

Vanish comes from fading, to die away, or empty.


message 3: by Janice (JG) (new)

Janice (JG) Also, keeping in mind that in S's time the love of a friend is prized above the love of a woman, that honor and commitment and duty to a friend is more important than fidelity to a lover or wife... I could see how S might mourn the aging of his dear friend, and trying to imagine a world without him could be very painful. He would try to keep him alive in a poem. A friend of mine - who I've known for what seems like most of my life - just had a birthday, and I was suddenly washed with the sense of times past, and what fun we'd had together, and how beautiful we were then.

It also speaks very much of Time, and the seasons, and I would not be surprised if S wrote this poem sometime in the autumn, when these feelings of passing moments can be so intense.


message 4: by Candy (new)

Candy | 2752 comments Mod
Yes, the autumn feeling of poetry. I myself think I write much more in the fall. The poem seems to be looking back and the idea of fortify since spring is gone....makes me thinks of harvest and storing food for winter.


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