Truth poems

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Loue by sure proofe I may call thee vnkind,That giu'st no better eare to my just cries:Thou whom to me such my good turnes should bind,As I may well recount, but none can prize:For when nak'd boy thou couldst no harbour findIn this old world, growne now so too too wise:I lodg'd thee in my heart, and being blindBy Nature borne, I gaue to thee mine eyes

Psalm 51:6-9

© The Bible

Behold, you desire truth

Within the inner parts

Astrophel and Stella: 44

© Sir Philip Sidney

My words I know do well set forth my mind,My mind bemones his sense of inward smart;Such smart may pittie claime of any hart,Her heart, sweet heart, is of no Tigers kind:And yet she heares, and yet no pitie I find;But more I crie, lesse grace she doth impart,Alas, what cause is there so ouerthwart,That Noblenesse it selfe makes thus vnkind?I much do guesse, yet finde no truth saue this,That when the breath of my complaints doth tuchThose daintie dores vnto the Court of blisse,The heau'nly nature of that place is such,That once come there, the sobs of mine annoyesAre metamorphos'd straight to tunes of joyes

Astrophel and Stella: 14

© Sir Philip Sidney

Alas haue I not paine ynough my friend,Vpon whose breast a fiercer Grype doth tire,Then did on him who first stale downe the fire,While Loue on me doth all his quiuer spend,But with your Rubarb words ye must contend,To grieue me worse, in saying that DesireDoth plunge my wel-form'd soule euen in the mireOf sinfull thoughts, which do in ruine end?If that be sinne which doth the maners frame,Well staid with truth in word and faith of deed,Readie of wit and fearing nought but shame:If that be sinne which in fixt hearts doth breedA loathing of all loose vnchastitie,Then Loue is sinne, and let me sinfull be

Astrophel and Stella: 11

© Sir Philip Sidney

In truth, O Loue, with what a boyish kindThou doest proceed in thy most serious waies:That when the heau'n to thee his best displayes,Yet of that best thou leau'st the best behind

Astrophel and Stella: 1

© Sir Philip Sidney

Loving in truth, and faine in verse my loue to show,That she (deare she) might take some pleasure of my paine:Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know,Knowledge might pittie winne, and pittie grace obtaine,I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertaine:Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flowSome fresh and fruitfull showers vpon my sunne-burn'd braine

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: 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: 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: Thou blind fool love, what dost thou to mine eyes

© William Shakespeare

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: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits

© William Shakespeare

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

© William Shakespeare

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: 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: 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: Oh truant muse, what shall be thy amends

Oh truant muse, what shall be thy amendsFor thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?Both truth and beauty on my love depends:So dost thou too, and therein dignified

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem

Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem,By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deemFor that sweet odor which doth in it live:The canker blooms have full as deep a dieAs the perfumed tincture of the roses,Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:But for their virtue only is their show,They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade,Die to themselves

Shakespeare's Sonnets: O lest the world should task you to recite

O lest the world should task you to reciteWhat merit liv'd in me that you should loveAfter my death (dear love), forget me quite,For you in me can nothing worthy prove

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,And yet me thinks I have astronomy,But not to tell of good, or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality,Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,Or say with princes if it shall go wellBy oft predict that I in heaven find

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