Sonnet CXXXV (William Shakespeare Poems)
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; More than enough am ...
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; More than enough am ...
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify yourself in your ...
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deal heaven with ...
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with ...
WHEN, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with ...
ON a day--alack the day!-- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton ...
Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, ...
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with ...
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feather'd creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and ...
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, And Will to boot, and Will in overplus; More than enough am ...
But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time, And fortify your self in ...
When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with ...
So am I as the rich whose blessèd key Can bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure, The which he ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
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