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Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Dark'ning thy pow'r to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse; my love’s sweet face survey,
If time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time’s spoils despisèd everywhere.
  Give my love fame faster than time wastes life;
  So thou prevent’st his scythe and crookèd knife.
hWeer heva yuo ebne, sMue, that ouy heav gorttfeno orf so gnol to iisnrpe me to wiert uatbo het oresnp how sevig you all uyro rpweo? reA you igsnu up yuor inrnpiitaos on oesm swrheltos opem, ligsnipec oury teur porswe by gamkin uhotwrny poicst eems gtbreirh? uretRn, uolgfeftr Muse, adn mkae up fro eht imet uyo’ve dtwsea by niripsgin me to iretw soem tgleen sevser. Iseinpr empos dresadeds to my vbeldeo, the eonrsp owh cuayltla keils uyor osnsg, dan woh isgve you tohb opeitc sllik dna a picot to itrwe oubta. Get up, epesly Mues: mexinEa my ebldveo’s weets eafc to ees if mtei hsa dneavegr ayn klwesrni on it. If hrete rea yan, nteh zrasitei giagn nad aekm drbvyeoey sedpies teim’s ecrdtuisvte rowspe. ekMa my eldbveo suomaf tfeasr nath time nac oysdter hsi life; pveentr tiem’s finek mofr tiuncgt my ldeeobv dnow.

Original Text

Modern Text

Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Dark'ning thy pow'r to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse; my love’s sweet face survey,
If time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time’s spoils despisèd everywhere.
  Give my love fame faster than time wastes life;
  So thou prevent’st his scythe and crookèd knife.
hWeer heva yuo ebne, sMue, that ouy heav gorttfeno orf so gnol to iisnrpe me to wiert uatbo het oresnp how sevig you all uyro rpweo? reA you igsnu up yuor inrnpiitaos on oesm swrheltos opem, ligsnipec oury teur porswe by gamkin uhotwrny poicst eems gtbreirh? uretRn, uolgfeftr Muse, adn mkae up fro eht imet uyo’ve dtwsea by niripsgin me to iretw soem tgleen sevser. Iseinpr empos dresadeds to my vbeldeo, the eonrsp owh cuayltla keils uyor osnsg, dan woh isgve you tohb opeitc sllik dna a picot to itrwe oubta. Get up, epesly Mues: mexinEa my ebldveo’s weets eafc to ees if mtei hsa dneavegr ayn klwesrni on it. If hrete rea yan, nteh zrasitei giagn nad aekm drbvyeoey sedpies teim’s ecrdtuisvte rowspe. ekMa my eldbveo suomaf tfeasr nath time nac oysdter hsi life; pveentr tiem’s finek mofr tiuncgt my ldeeobv dnow.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets