Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth
William Shakespeare 1564 (Stratford-upon-Avon) – 1616 (Stratford-upon-Avon)
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
My sinful earth these rebel powers array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?
Then soul live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 35 sec read
- 89 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABABCDEDFGFGHH |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 609 |
Words | 114 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/41449/sonnet-146:-poor-soul,-the-centre-of-my-sinful-earth>.
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