All Poems

/ page 62 of 3210 /

Order by :

1
. . .
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
. . .
3210

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame

© William Shakespeare

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shameIs lust in action, and till action, lustIs perjur'd, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,Enjoy'd no sooner but despisèd straight,Past reason hunted, and no sooner hadPast reason hated as a swallowed baitOn purpose laid to make the taker mad:Made in pursuit and in possession so,Had, having, and in quest to have extreme,A bliss in proof and prov'd a very woe,Before, a joy propos'd, behind, a dream: All this the world well knows, yet none knows well To shun the heav'n that leads men to this hell

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all

© William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all,What hast thou then more than thou had'st before?No love, my love, that thou may'st true love call;All mine was thine before thou had'st this more

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said

© William Shakespeare

Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not saidThy edge should blunter be than appetite,Which but to-day by feeding is allayed,To-morrow sharp'ned in his former might

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness

© William Shakespeare

Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness,Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport:Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill

© William Shakespeare

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force,Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;And every humour hath his adjunct pleasureWherein it finds a joy above the rest,But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one gen'ral best

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So shall I live, supposing thou art true

© William Shakespeare

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,Like a deceived husband, so love's faceMay still seem love to me, though alter'd new:Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So oft have I invok'd thee for my muse

© William Shakespeare

So oft have I invok'd thee for my museAnd found such fair assistance in my verse,As every alien pen hath got my useAnd under thee their poesy disperse

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So now I have confess't that he is thine

© William Shakespeare

So now I have confess't that he is thine,And I my self am mortgag'd to thy will,My self I'll forfeit, so that other mineThou wilt restore to be my comfort still,But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,For thou art covetous, and he is kind

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So is it not with me as with that muse

© William Shakespeare

So is it not with me as with that muse,Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,Who heav'n it self for ornament doth use,And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,Making a couplement of proud compare,With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,With April's first-born flowers and all things rareThat heaven's air in this huge rondure hems

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So are you to my thoughts as food to life

© William Shakespeare

So are you to my thoughts as food to lifeOr as sweet season'd show'rs are to the ground;And for the peace of you I hold such strifeAs 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found,Now proud as an enjoyer, and anonDoubting the filching age will steal his treasure,Now counting best to be with you alone,Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure,Some-time all full with feasting on your sight,And by and by clean starvèd for a look,Possessing or pursuing no delightSave what is had, or must from you be took

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So am I as the rich whose blessèd key

© William Shakespeare

So am I as the rich whose blessèd keyCan bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,The which he will not ev'ry hour surveyFor blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind

© William Shakespeare

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,And that which governs me to go aboutDoth part his function and is partly blind,Seems seeing, but effectually is out,For it no form delivers to the heartOf bird, of flow'r, or shape which it doth hatch,Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,The most sweet favour or deformèd'st creature,The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night,The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

© William Shakespeare

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless seaBut sad mortality o'er-sways their pow'r,How with this rage shall beauty hold a pleaWhose action is no stronger then a flow'r?O how shall summer's honey breath hold outAgainst the wrackful siege of batt'ring daysWhen rocks impregnable are not so stout,Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays?O fearful meditation! where, alack,Shall time's best jewel from time's chest lie hid?Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,Or who his spoil o'er beauty can forbid? O none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eyeAnd all my soul, and all my every part;And for this sin there is no remedy,It is so grounded inward in my heart

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dim'd,And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature's changing course, untrim'd:But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,Nor shall death brag thou wandr'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,And I will comment upon that offence,Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,Against thy reasons making no defence

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,Defy these rebel pow'rs that thee array

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Or whether doth my mind being crown'd with you

Or whether doth my mind being crown'd with youDrink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?Or whether shall I say mine eye saith trueAnd that your love taught it this alchemy?To make of monsters, and things indigest,Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,Creating every bad a perfect bestAs fast as objects to his beams assemble?Oh, 'tis the first, 'tis flatt'ry in my seeing,And my great mind most kingly drinks it up,Mine eye well knows what with his gust is greeing,And to his pallate doth prepare the cup

1
. . .
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
. . .
3210