Sonnet 100
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
poetry
time
neglect
inspiration
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.
What It Means
Shakespeare wakes his Muse from neglect. He hasn't been writing. Meanwhile, time has been advancing on the young man's face. Get back to work — find those eyes, return to that face, write before the wrinkles get too deep. The Muse must fight time by recording what remains. There's urgency here: the poetry project is slipping, and time is not waiting.
Context
Part of the Fair Youth sequence. Sonnets 100–103 form a group about Shakespeare's return to poetry after a gap.
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