Sonnet 77


  Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
  Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste,
  These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
  And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
  The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show,
  Of mouthed graves will give thee memory,
  Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know,
  Time's thievish progress to eternity.
  Look what thy memory cannot contain,
  Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
  Those children nursed, delivered from thy brain,
  To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
    These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
    Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Sonnet 77 to your own personal library.

Return to the William Shakespeare Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet 78

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson