2015年7月31日 · In this first of two linked sonnets, the poet compares the young man to summer and its flowers, doomed to be destroyed by winter. Even though summer inevitably dies, he argues, its flowers can be distilled into perfume. The beauty of the flowers and thereby the essence of summer are thus preserved.

Sonnet 16: ‘But wherefore do not you a mightier way’ by William Shakespeare is one of the final poems in the procreation series of Fair Youth sonnets. This particular poem starts where the fifteenth sonnet left off.

Sonnet 16 is one of 154 sonnets written by the English playwright and poet William Shakespeare. It is among those sonnets referred to as the procreation sonnets, within the Fair Youth sequence. Although the previous sonnet, Sonnet 15, does not overtly discuss procreation, Sonnet 16 opens with "But..." and goes on to make the encouragement clear.

Read Shakespeare's sonnet 16 with a modern English translation: "But wherefore do not you a mightier way". But why don't you use a more effective way of fighting this terrible.

The text of Shakespeare's sonnet 16 with critical notes and analysis. The theme of the youth's beauty is explored.

Actually understand Shakespeare's Sonnets Sonnet 16. Read every line of Shakespeare’s original text alongside a modern English translation.

Sonnet XVI. But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify your self in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens, yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

Sonnet 16, in the group of seventeen “procreation sonnets”, continues the argument that the beauty of the Fair Youth must be preserved through having children, although art, specifically...

Sonnet 16 By William Shakespeare But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time? And fortify your self in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,

Sonnet 16. Cromwell, our cheif of men, who through a cloud Not of warr onely, but detractions rude, Guided by faith & matchless Fortitude, To peace & truth thy glorious way hast plough'd, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud [ 5 ] Hast reard Gods Trophies & his work pursu'd,