| | Sonnet 55 |
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Not marble nor the gilded monuments |
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Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme, |
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But you shall shine more bright in these conténts |
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Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. |
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When wasteful war shall statues overturn, |
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And broils root out the work of masonry, |
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Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire, shall burn |
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The living record of your memory. |
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'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity |
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Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room |
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Even in the eyes of all posterity |
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That wear this world out to the ending doom. |
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So till the judgment that yourself arise, |
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You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. |
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| Sonnet 55 |
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Neither marble nor the gold-plated monuments of princes will outlive this powerful poetry. You will shine more brightly in these poems than those stones that crumble to dust, blackened by time. When devastating war overturns statues, with its battles uprooting buildings, neither the god of war nor his quick-burning fires shall destroy this record of you. Despite death and ignorant enmity, you shall continue on. All those generations to come, down to the weary end of time, will devote space to praising you. So until Judgment Day, when you are raised up, you will live in this poetry, and in the eyes of lovers who read this. |
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