Sonnet 1 Sonnet 3 Sonnet 12 Sonnet 18 Sonnet 19 Sonnet 20 Sonnet 29 Sonnet 30 Sonnet 33 Sonnet 55 Sonnet 60 Sonnet 65 Sonnet 71 Sonnet 73 Sonnet 94 Sonnet 106 Sonnet 116 Sonnet 126 Sonnet 127 Sonnet 129 Sonnet 130 Sonnet 138 Sonnet 144 Sonnet 146 Sonnet 147

Sonnet 60

Original Text

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Modern English

Just as waves roll toward the rocky shore, our minutes rush headlong toward their end; each one replacing what came just before, all pressing forward, laboring without end.

Original Text

Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d, Crooked eclipses ’gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.

Modern English

A newborn, once launched into the full blaze of life, crawls toward maturity — and just when it is crowned, crooked eclipses rise to battle its glory, and Time, which gave the gift, now tears it down.

Original Text

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:

Modern English

Time drives a nail through the bright flourish of youth and cuts its furrows deep in beauty's brow, devours the rarest gifts that nature offers, and nothing stands but Time waits with its scythe to mow.

Original Text

And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand. Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Modern English

And yet, against all future time, my verse will hold — praising your worth despite Time's cruel hand.

Shakespeare's Sonnets

Sonnet 60

Sonnet 60