Poems begining by S
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Song of Solomon
© The Bible
22:001:004 Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into
his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will
remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.
Shakespeare's Sonnets: 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
© William Shakespeare
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemedWhen not to be receives reproach of being,And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemedNot by our feeling but by others' seeing
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Your love and pity doth th'impression fill
© William Shakespeare
Your love and pity doth th'impression fillWhich vulgar scandal stampt upon my brow,For what care I who calls me well or illSo you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?You are my all-the-world, and I must striveTo know my shames and praises from your tongue,None else to me, nor I to none alive,That my steel'd sense o'er-changes right or wrong
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
© William Shakespeare
Why is my verse so barren of new pride?So far from variation or quick change?Why with the time do I not glance asideTo new-found methods, and to compounds strange?Why write I still all one, ever the same,And keep invention in a noted weed,That every word doth almost feal my name,Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?O know, sweet love, I always write of you,And you and love are still my argument:So all my best is dressing old words new,Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Why did'st thou promise such a beaut'ous day
© William Shakespeare
Why did'st thou promise such a beaut'ous dayAnd make me travail forth without my cloak,To let base clouds o'er-take me in my way,Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke?'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,For no man well of such a salve can speak,That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief,Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Who will believe my verse in time to come
© William Shakespeare
Who will believe my verse in time to comeIf it were fill'd with your most high deserts?Though yet heav'n knows it is but as a tombWhich hides your life and shews not half your parts:If I could write the beauty of your eyes,And in fresh numbers number all your graces,The age to come would say this poet lies,"Such heav'nly touches ne'er touch't earthly faces
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Who is it that says most, which can say more
© William Shakespeare
Who is it that says most, which can say moreThan this rich praise, that you alone are you,In whose confine immurèd is the storeWhich should example where your equal grew?Lean penury within that pen doth dwellThat to his subject lends not some small glory,But he that writes of you, if he can tellThat you are you, so dignifies his story
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Who ever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will
© William Shakespeare
Who ever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,And Will to boot, and Will in over-plus,More than enough am I that vex thee still,To thy sweet will making addition thus
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Whil'st I alone did call upon thy aid
© William Shakespeare
Whil'st I alone did call upon thy aid,My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,But now my gracious numbers are decay'd,And my sick muse doth give an other place
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Where art thou, muse, that thou forget'st so long
© William Shakespeare
Where art thou, muse, that thou forget'st so longTo speak of that which gives thee all thy might?Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,Dark'ning thy pow'r to lend base subjects light?Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,In gentle numbers, time so idly spent,Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteemAnd gives thy pen both skill and argument
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
© William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,I sigh the lack of many a thing I soughtAnd with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:Then can I drown an eye (un-us'd to flow)For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe,And moan th'expense of many a vanish't sight
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
© William Shakespeare
When thou shalt be disposed to set me lightAnd place my merit in the eye of scorn,Upon thy side against my self I'll fightAnd prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When my love swears that she is made of truth
© William Shakespeare
When my love swears that she is made of truth,I do believe her, though I know she lies,That she might think me some untutor'd youth,Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
© William Shakespeare
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,For all the day they view things unrespected,But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When in the chronicle of wastèd time
© William Shakespeare
When in the chronicle of wastèd timeI see descriptions of the fairest wightsAnd beauty making beautiful old rhymeIn praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights,Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,I see their antique pen would have express'tEv'n such a beauty as you master now
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
© William Shakespeare
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,I all alone beweep my out-cast stateAnd trouble deaf heav'n with my bootless cries,And look upon my self and curse my fate,Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess't,Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,With what I most enjoy contented least;Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,Haply I think on thee, and then my state(Like to the lark at break of day arising)From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate, For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When I have seen by time's fell hand defaced
© William Shakespeare
When I have seen by time's fell hand defacedThe rich proud cost of outworn buried age;When sometime lofty towers I see down razedAnd brass eternal slave to mortal rage;When I have seen the hungry ocean gainAdvantage on the kingdom of the shore,And the firm soil win of the watery main,Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;When I have seen such interchange of state,Or state it self confounded to decay,Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminateThat time will come and take my love away
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When I do count the clock that tells the time
© William Shakespeare
When I do count the clock that tells the time,And see the brave day sunk in hid'ous night,When I behold the violet past prime,And sable curls' or silver'd o'er with white:When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,And summer's green all girded up in sheavesBorne on the bier with white and bristly beard:Then of thy beauty do I question makeThat thou among the wastes of time must go,Since sweets and beauties do them-selves forsake,And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing 'gainst time's scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When I consider every thing that grows
© William Shakespeare
When I consider every thing that growsHolds in perfection but a little moment,That this huge stage presenteth nought but showsWhereon the stars in secret influence comment;When I perceive that men as plants increase,Cheered and check't even by the self-same sky,Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,And wear their brave state out of memory
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
© William Shakespeare
When forty winters shall besiege thy browAnd dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now,Will be a totter'd weed of small worth held:Then being askt where all thy beauty lies,Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,To say within thine own deep-sunken eyesWere an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise
