The speaker turns inward and scolds his own soul for being so neglected. He imagines it trapped at the center of his “sinful earth”—his body—and wonders why he pours so much effort into decorating the outer walls while the inner self starves. The body is a fading “mansion” with a short lease, and worms will inherit everything spent on it. That thought stings. Then he shifts tone, deciding to reverse the arrangement: let the body suffer loss so the soul can grow rich. He urges himself to trade worthless hours for something “divine,” to stop indulging the outside and get inwardly fed. The final couplet lands with quiet triumph: if the soul feeds on Death itself, then Death dies, and dying is over forever. The mood moves from anxious self‑rebuke to a calm, fierce confidence in a life beyond the body.
Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth — Summary
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, My sinful earth these rebel powers 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 shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.