Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse, And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book. Thou art as fair in knowledge
Sonnet LXXIII
That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds
Sonnet XXVIII
How can I then return in happy plight, That am debarr’d the benefit of rest? When day’s oppression is not eased by night, But day by night, and night by day, oppress’d? And each,
Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; These vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear, And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste. The
Sonnet 125: Were't aught to me I bore the canopy
Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which proves more short than waste or ruining? Have I not seen dwellers on
Sonnet LXXXIII
I never saw that you did painting need And therefore to your fair no painting set; I found, or thought I found, you did exceed The barren tender of a poet’s debt; And therefore
Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountaintops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
Sonnet 3: Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time that face should form another, Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some
Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air. So thou be
Sonnet XXX
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s
Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing
Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I
Sonnet XCII
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then
Aubade
HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, And Phoebus ‘gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With
Carpe Diem
O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming That can sing both high and low; Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journey’s end in lovers’ meeting Every wise man’s
Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done. Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men