The speaker urges a beautiful young man to father a child before age destroys his looks. He frames youth as a summer that will be ravaged by winter’s “ragged hand” unless the man “distills” himself—like turning flowers into perfume—by creating a sweet vial of a child. That act is called a kind of happy usury: lending beauty now to be repaid tenfold in offspring, making the lender even richer. If the young man could see ten miniature versions of himself, he’d be ten times happier and death would lose its sting, because a living copy would remain. The closing couplet is unusually blunt: stop being self-willed, because you’re far too lovely to be worm-food with no heir. The mood is affectionate but urgent, mixing flattery with a stark reminder of mortality.
Sonnet 6: Then let not winter's ragged hand deface — Summary
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface, In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd. That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That's for thy self to breed another thee, Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; Ten times thy self were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee: Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, Leaving thee living in posterity? Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.