Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore—William Shakespeare

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by William Shakespeare

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
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.
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:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

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William Shakespeare (1564–1616) was an English playwright and poet, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language, known for his plays like Hamlet, Macbeth, and Romeo and Juliet.

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