Sonnet LXIX (William Shakespeare Poems)
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All ...
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All ...
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook The dedicated words which writers ...
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer ...
Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full ...
So is it not with me as with that Muse Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven ...
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the ...
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, ...
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is't ...
How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease ...
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, How with this rage shall ...
I never saw that you did painting need And therefore to your fair no painting set; I found, or thought ...
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to ...
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; ...
My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But ...
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can ...
O HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The Rose looks fair, ...
POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth-- My sinful earth these rebel powers array-- Why dost thou pine within ...
Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, ...
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I'll forfeit, ...
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou ...
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd ...
Who is it that says most? which can say more Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? In ...
They that have power to hurt and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, ...
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when ...
Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows ...
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses ...
BEING your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no ...
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with ...
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