O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends <br /> For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? <br /> Both truth and beauty on my love depends; <br /> So dost thou too, and therein dignified. <br /> Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say <br /> 'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; <br /> Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; <br /> But best is best, if never intermix'd?' <br /> Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? <br /> Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee <br /> To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, <br /> And to be praised of ages yet to be. <br /> Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how <br /> To make him seem long hence as he shows now.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-ci/
