Sonnet XX (William Shakespeare Poems)
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but ...
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with ...
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with ...
Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste ...
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, And being ...
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this ...
But, lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by, A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, Adonis' trampling courser doth ...
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his ...
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better ...
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour; Who hast by ...
In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now ...
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but ...
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better ...
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better ...
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by ...
In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now ...
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