Shakespeare's Sonnet 100

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 esteemAnd 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.

Where are you, Muse, that you have forgotten for so long to speak about the one who gives you all your strength? Are you spending your passion on some worthless song, dimming your own power to shed light on unworthy subjects?
Return, forgetful Muse, and immediately make up for the time so idly spent with gentle verse. Sing to the person who values your songs and gives your pen both skill and a subject.
Get up, lazy Muse, and examine my love's sweet face to see whether Time has carved any wrinkles there. If there are any, attack decay with your wit and make everyone despise the damage Time does.
Give my love fame faster than Time wears away his life, so you can get ahead of his scythe and curved knife.