Poet William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare Poems

  • 201.  
    Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
    For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is't not enough to torture me alone,
  • 202.  
    Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
    What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
  • 203.  
    FROM you have I been absent in the spring,
    When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
  • 204.  
    COME unto these yellow sands,
       And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,--
  • 205.  
    Who will believe my verse in time to come,
    If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
  • 206.  
    Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
    And I will comment upon that offence; Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,
  • 207.  
    Let me confess that we two must be twain,
    Although our undivided loves are one: So shall those blots that do with me remain
  • 208.  
    Against that time, if ever that time come,
    When I shall see thee frown on my defects,When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
  • 209.  
    Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
    Lifts up his burning head, each under eyeDoth homage to his new-appearing sight,
  • 210.  
    When I consider everything that grows
    Holds in perfection but a little moment,That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
  • 211.  
    But wherefore do not you a mightier way
    Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time,And fortify your self in your decay
  • 212.  
    Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'
    And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still,
  • 213.  
    If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
    Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then despite of space I would be brought,
  • 214.  
    Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
    And each doth good turns now unto the other,When that mine eye is famished for a look,
  • 215.  
    My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
    So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
  • 216.  
    Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
    Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this written embassage,
  • 217.  
    O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
    When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
  • 218.  
    Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
    Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill,
  • 219.  
    Lo in the orient when the gracious light
    Lifts up his burning head, each under eyeDoth homage to his new-appearing sight,
  • 220.  
    The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
    It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
  • 221.  
    They that have power to hurt and will do none,
    That do not do the thing they most do show,Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
  • 222.  
    Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
    And each doth good turns now unto the other: When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
  • 223.  
    THAT time of year thou may'st in me behold
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold--
  • 224.  
    Not marble nor the gilded monuments
    Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme;But you shall shine more bright in these contents
  • 225.  
    Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits
    When I am sometime absent from thy heart,Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,
  • 226.  
    Your love and pity doth the impression fill
    Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill,
  • 227.  
    Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
    [��] these rebel powers that thee array,Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
  • 228.  
    Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
    Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit;To thee I send this written embassage
  • 229.  
    Those lips that Love's own hand did make
    Breath'd forth the sound that said I hateTo me that languish'd for her sake:
  • 230.  
    So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,
    And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
  • 231.  
    For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
    Who for thyself art so unprovident. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
  • 232.  
    POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth--
    My sinful earth these rebel powers array-- Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
  • 233.  
    O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
    By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
  • 234.  
    What's in the brain that ink may character
    Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to speak, what new to register,
  • 235.  
    How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
    Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
  • 236.  
    So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
    And found such fair assistance in my verseAs every alien pen hath got my use,
  • 237.  
    What is your substance, whereof are you made,
    That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
  • 238.  
    WHEN, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
    I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
  • 239.  
    O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
    Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st
  • 240.  
    O NEVER say that I was false of heart,
    Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify! As easy might I from myself depart,
  • 241.  
    Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
    And yet methinks I have astronomy—But not to tell of good or evil luck,
  • 242.  
    A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
    Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
  • 243.  
    Let me not to the marriage of true minds
    Admit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,
  • 244.  
    Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
    And all my soul and all my every part; And for this sin there is no remedy,
  • 245.  
    Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
    Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
  • 246.  
    Over hill, over dale,
    Thorough bush, thorough brier,Over park, over pale,
  • 247.  
    Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
    Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated skyGives us free scope, only doth backward pull
  • 248.  
    TO me, fair friend, you never can be old;
    For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three Winters cold
  • 249.  
    Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
    So far from variation or quick change?Why with the time do I not glance aside
  • 250.  
    They that have power to hurt and will do none,
    That do not do the thing, they most do show,Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Total 513 poems written by William Shakespeare

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With focus sharp as Flemish-painted face
In film of varnish brightly fixed
And through a polished hand-lens deeply seen,
Sunday at noon through hyaline thin air
Sees down the street,
And in the camera of my eye depicts
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