Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long <br />To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? <br />Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, <br />Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? <br />Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem <br />In gentle numbers time so idly spent; <br />Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem, <br />And gives thy pen both skill and argument. <br />Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey <br />If time have any wrinkle graven there; <br />If any, be a satire to decay, <br />And make time's spoils despisèd everywhere. <br /> Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life; <br /> So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-100-where-art-thou-muse-that-thou-forget/
