Poems begining by S

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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

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

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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

Shakespeare's Sonnets: In the old age black was not counted fair

© William Shakespeare

In the old age black was not counted fair,Or if it were it bore not beauty's name,But now is black, beauty's successive heir,And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame,For since each hand hath put on nature's pow'r,Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face,Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bow'r,But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace

Shakespeare's Sonnets: In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing,In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith tornIn vowing new hate after new love bearing

Shakespeare's Sonnets: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note,But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote

Shakespeare's Sonnets: If thy soul check thee that I come so near

If thy soul check thee that I come so near,Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will;And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there

Shakespeare's Sonnets: If thou survive my well-contented day

If thou survive my well-contented day,When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,And shalt by fortune once more re-surveyThese poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,And though they be out-stripp't by every pen,Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,Exceeded by the height of happier men

Shakespeare's Sonnets: If there be nothing new, but that which is

If there be nothing new but that which is,Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd,Which lab'ring for invention bear amissThe second burthen of a former child?Oh that record could with a back-ward look,Ev'n of five hundreth courses of the sun,Show me your image in some antique book,Since mind at first in character was done,That I might see what the old world could sayTo this composèd wonder of your frame,Whether we're mended, or whe'er better they,Or whether revolution be the same! Oh sure I am the wits of former days To subjects worse have giv'n admiring praise

Shakespeare's Sonnets: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,Injurious distance should not stop my way,For then, despite of space, I would be broughtFrom limits far remote where thou dost stay;No matter then, although my foot did standUpon the farthest earth remov'd from thee,For nimble thought can jump both sea and landAs soon as think the place where he would be

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