Poems begining by S

/ page 6 of 287 /

Order by :

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
. . .
287

Shakespeare's Sonnets: What's in the brain that ink may character

© William Shakespeare

What's in the brain that ink may characterWhich hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit?What's new to speak, what now to register,That may express my love, or thy dear merit?Nothing, sweet boy, but yet like prayers divine,I must each day say o'er the very same,Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,Ev'n as when first I hallowed thy fair name

Shakespeare's Sonnets: What potions have I drunk of siren tears

© William Shakespeare

What potions have I drunk of siren tearsDistill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,Still losing when I saw my self to win?What wretched errors hath my heart committedWhil'st it hath thought it self so blessèd never?How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fittedIn the distraction of this madding fever?O benefit of ill, now I find trueThat better is by evil still made better,And ruin'd love when it is built anewGrows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater

Shakespeare's Sonnets: What is your substance, whereof are you made

© William Shakespeare

What is your substance, whereof are you made,That millions of strange shadows on you tend?Since every one hath, every one, one shade,And you, but one, can every shadow lend

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Wer't ought to me I bore the canopy

© William Shakespeare

Wer't ought to me I bore the canopy,With my extern the outward honoring,Or laid great bases for eternity,Which proves more short than waste or ruining?Have I not seen dwellers on form and favourLose all and more by paying too much rentFor compound sweet, forgoing simple savour,Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent?No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,And take thou my oblation, poor but free,Which is not mixt with seconds, knows no art,But mutual render, only me for thee

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed

© William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,The dear repose for limbs with travail tired,But then begins a journey in my headTo work my mind, when body's work's expired

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse

© William Shakespeare

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,Bound for the prize of (all too precious) you,That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write,Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?No, neither he, nor his compeers by nightGiving him aid, my verse astonishèd

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

© William Shakespeare

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spendUpon thy self thy beauty's legacy?Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,And being frank she lends to those are free:Then beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuseThe bounteous largess giv'n thee to give?Profitless usurer, why dost thou useSo great a sum of sums yet can'st not live?For having traffic with thy self alone,Thou of thy self thy sweet self dost deceive;Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,What acceptable audit can'st thou leave? Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee, Which usèd lives th' executor to be

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Two loves I have of comfort and despair

© William Shakespeare

Two loves I have of comfort and despairWhich like two spirits do suggest me still:The better angel is a man right fair;The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill

Shakespeare's Sonnets: To me, fair friend, you never can be old

© William Shakespeare

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyed,Such seems your beauty still: three winters coldHave from the forests shook three summers' pride,Three beaut'ous springs to yellow autumn turn'dIn process of the seasons have I seen

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Tir'd with all these for restful death I cry

© William Shakespeare

Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,As to behold desert a begger born,And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,And purest faith unhappily forsworn,And gilded honour shamefully misplac't,And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,And strength by limping sway disablèd,And art made tongue-tied by authority,And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,And simple-truth miscall'd simplicity,And captive-good attending captain-ill

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear

© William Shakespeare

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain

© William Shakespeare

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brainFull character'd with lasting memoryWhich shall above that idle rank remainBeyond all date, ev'n to eternity

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts

© William Shakespeare

Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts,Which I by lacking have supposèd dead,And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,And all those friends which I thought burièd

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thus is his cheek the map of days out-worn

© William Shakespeare

Thus is his cheek the map of days out-wornWhen beauty liv'd and died as flow'rs do now,Before these bastard signs of fair were borneOr durst inhabit on a living brow:Before the golden tresses of the dead,The right of sepulchers, were shorn away,To live a second life on second head,Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thus can my love excuse the slow offence

Thus can my love excuse the slow offenceOf my dull bearer, when from thee I speed

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thou blind fool love, what dost thou to mine eyes

Thou blind fool love, what dost thou to mine eyesThat they behold and see not what they see?They know what beauty is, see where it lies,Yet what the best is, take the worst to be

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel,For well thou know'st to my dear doting heartThou art the fairest and most precious jewel

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commitsWhen I am some-time absent from thy heart,Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,For still temptation follows where thou art

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth viewWant nothing that the thought of hearts can mend:All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due,Utt'ring bare truth, ev'n so as foes commend

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Those lips that love's own hand did make

Those lips that love's own hand did makeBreath'd forth the sound that said, "I hate,"To me that languish't for her sake,But when she saw my woeful state,Straight in her heart did mercy come,Chiding that tongue that, ever sweet,Was used in giving gentle doomAnd taught it thus anew to greet

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
. . .
287