Sonnet 17

The Case for Posterity

  1. 1 Who will believe my verse in time to come,
  2. 2 If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
  3. 3 Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
  4. 4 Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts.
  5. 5 If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
  6. 6 And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
  7. 7 The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
  8. 8 Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
  9. 9 So should my papers, yellow'd with their age,
  10. 10 Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue,
  11. 11 And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
  12. 12 And stretched metre of an antique song:
  13. 13 But were some child of yours alive that time,
  14. 14 You should live twice,—in it, and in my rhyme.