Sonnet CXLVII (William Shakespeare Poems)
My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth ...
My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth ...
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when ...
COME away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am ...
Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in ...
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come Can yet the ...
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed When not to be receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure ...
If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, ...
Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle ...
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd; But then begins ...
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; ...
Sweet love, renew thy force! Be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but today by ...
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of ...
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden ...
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend'st ...
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own ...
O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or, if they ...
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be ...
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