All Poems

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Shakespeare's Sonnets: My love is strength'ned, though more weak in seeming

© William Shakespeare

My love is strength'ned, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear

Shakespeare's Sonnets: My love is as a fever longing still

© William Shakespeare

My love is as a fever longing stillFor that which longer nurseth the disease,Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please

Shakespeare's Sonnets: My glass shall not persuade me I am old

© William Shakespeare

My glass shall not persuade me I am oldSo long as youth and thou are of one date,But when in thee time's furrows I behold,Then look I death my days should expiate

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,By unions married do offend thine ear,They do but sweetly chide thee, who confoundsIn singleness the parts that thou should'st bear:Mark how one string, sweet husband to an other,Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother,Who all-in-one one pleasing note do sing Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, "thou single wilt prove none

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd

© William Shakespeare

Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'dThy beauty's form in table of my heart,My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,And perspective it is best painter's art,For through the painter must you see his skill,To find where your true image pictur'd lies,Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,That hath his windows glazèd with thine eyes:Now see what good-turns eyes for eyes have done,Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for meAre windows to my breast, where-through the sunDelights to peep, to gaze therein on thee

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war

© William Shakespeare

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal warHow to divide the conquest of thy sight

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Love is too young to know what conscience is

© William Shakespeare

Love is too young to know what conscience is,Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate

© William Shakespeare

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

© William Shakespeare

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalageThy merit hath my duty strongly knit,To thee I send this written ambassageTo witness duty, not to shew my wit

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Look in thy glass and tell the face thou view'st

© William Shakespeare

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou view'st,Now is the time that face should form an otherWhose fresh repair, if now thou not renew'st,Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch

© William Shakespeare

Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catchOne of her feathered creatures broke away,Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatchIn pursuit of the thing she would have stay,Whil'st her neglected child holds her in chase,Cries to catch her whose busy care is bentTo follow that which flies before her face,Not prizing her poor infant's discontent,So run'st thou after that which flies from thee,Whil'st I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Lo in the orient when the gracious light

© William Shakespeare

Lo in the orient when the gracious lightLifts up his burning head, each under-eyeDoth homage to his new-appearing sight,Serving with looks his sacred majesty,And having climb'd the steep-up heav'nly hill,Resembling strong youth in his middle age,Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,Attending on his golden pilgrimage:But when from high-most pitch with weary car,Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,The eyes (fore-dut'ous) now converted areFrom his low tract and look an other way: So thou, thy self out-going in thy noon, Unlook'd on die'st unless thou get a son

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Like as to make our appetites more keen

© William Shakespeare

Like as to make our appetites more keen,With eager compounds we our palate urge,As to prevent our maladies unseenWe sicken to shun sickness when we purge

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore

© William Shakespeare

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,So do our minutes hasten to their end,Each changing place with that which goes before,In sequent toil all forwards do contend

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Let those who are in favour with their stars

Let those who are in favour with their starsOf public honour and proud titles boast,Whil'st I whom fortune of such triumph barsUnlook't for joy in that I honour most;Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spreadBut as the marigold at the sun's eye,And in them-selves their pride lies burièd,For at a frown they in their glory die

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Let not my love be call'd idolatry

Let not my love be call'd idolatryNor my belovèd as an idol show,Since all alike my songs and praises beTo one, of one, still such, and ever so

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments; love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration findsOr bends with the remover to remove

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Let me confess that we two must be twain

Let me confess that we two must be twainAlthough our undivided loves are one:So shall those blots that do with me remain,Without thy help, by me be borne alone

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Is it thy will thy image should keep op'n

Is it thy will thy image should keep op'nMy heavy eyelids to the weary night?Dost thou desire my slumbers should be brok'n,While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from theeSo far from home into my deeds to pry,To find out shames and idle hours in me,The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?O no, thy love, though much, is not so great,It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,To play the watch-man ever for thy sake

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eyeThat thou consum'st thy self in single life?Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,The world will wail thee like a makeless wife,The world will be thy widow and still weepThat thou no form of thee hast left behind,When every private widow well may keep,By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:Look what an unthrift in the world doth spendShifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it,But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,And kept unused the user so destroys it: No love tow'rd others in that bosom sits That on himself such murd'rous shame commits

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