William Shakespeare Poems
Sonnet Cxlv Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate' To me that languish'd for her s ...
Sonnet Cxlvi Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, [ ] these rebel powers that thee array; Why dost thou pine within and suf ...
Sonnet Cxlvii My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserv ...
Sonnet Cxlviii O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or, if they have, where i ...
Sonnet Cxv Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer: Yet then my judgment kn ...
Sonnet Cxvi Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, ...
Sonnet Cxvi: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not lo ...
Sonnet Cxvii Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to ...
Sonnet Cxviii Like as, to make our appetites more keen, With eager compounds we our palate urge, As, to prevent our maladies uns ...
Sonnet Cxx That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow which I then did feel Needs must I under my transgres ...
Sonnet Cxxi 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, When not to be receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost whi ...
Sonnet Cxxii Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full character'd with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank re ...
Sonnet Cxxiii No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, n ...
Sonnet Cxxix The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, ...
Sonnet Cxxv Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which ...
Sonnet Cxxvi O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, ...
Sonnet Cxxviii How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, w ...
Sonnet Cxxxi Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my ...
Sonnet Cxxxii Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, Have put on black and lovi ...
Sonnet Cxxxiii Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is't not enough to ...
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