1. Home
  2. Poems & Poets
  3. Browse Poems
  4. Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, by William Shakespeare
Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,

Related Poem Content Details

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
[......] these rebel powers that thee 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 shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

Discover this poem's context and related poetry, articles, and media.
Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,

Related Poem Content Details

Other Information