Poet William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare Poems

  • 301.  
    O never say that I was false of heart,
    Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify:As easy might I from myself depart
  • 302.  
    Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
    Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force, Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
  • 303.  
    Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
    When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
  • 304.  
    Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
    [ ] these rebel powers that thee array; Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
  • 305.  
    That you were once unkind befriends me now,
    And for that sorrow which I then did feel Needs must I under my transgression bow,
  • 306.  
    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
  • 307.  
    If thou survive my well-contented day,
    When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
  • 308.  
    Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
    Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
  • 309.  
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  • 310.  
    story from a sistering vale,
    My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
  • 311.  
    }
    };
  • 312.  
    }
    };
  • 313.  
    Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
    The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd; But then begins a journey in my head
  • 314.  
    Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
    Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore,
  • 315.  
    When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
    And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
  • 316.  
    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,
  • 317.  
    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,
  • 318.  
    Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there,
    And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
  • 319.  
    I.
    IT was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, That liked of her master as well as well might be,
  • 320.  
    Against my love shall be, as I am now,
    With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn; When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
  • 321.  
    Your love and pity doth th' impression fill
    Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill,
  • 322.  
    Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
    And made myself a motley to the view, Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
  • 323.  
    Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
    My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
  • 324.  
    Who will believe my verse in time to come
    If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
  • 325.  
    Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
    To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
  • 326.  
    Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
    Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,
  • 327.  
    Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
    And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
  • 328.  
    When in the chronicle of wasted time
    I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
  • 329.  
    Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
    Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
  • 330.  
    Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
    Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
  • 331.  
    Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
    And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
  • 332.  
    So is it not with me as with that Muse
    Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
  • 333.  
    To be, or not to be: that is the question:
    Whether รข??tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
  • 334.  
    So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
    Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new;
  • 335.  
    When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
    And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I'll fight,
  • 336.  
    My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
    While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill,
  • 337.  
    How can I then return in happy plight
    That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eased by night,
  • 338.  
    In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
    For they in thee a thousand errors note; But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
  • 339.  
    Ah, wherefore with infection should he live,
    And with his presence grace impiety, That sin by him advantage should achieve,
  • 340.  
    Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
    Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, From hence your memory death cannot take,
  • 341.  
    Is it thy will thy image should keep open
    My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
  • 342.  
    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,
  • 343.  
    In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
    But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing, In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn,
  • 344.  
    My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;
    I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming
  • 345.  
    Those lips that Love's own hand did make
    Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate" To me that languished for her sake;
  • 346.  
    From fairest creatures we desire increase,
    That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease,
  • 347.  
    When I consider everything that grows
    Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
  • 348.  
    Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
    Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;
  • 349.  
    What's in the brain that ink may character
    Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to speak, what now to register,
  • 350.  
    Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
    Nor the furious winter's rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Total 513 poems written by William Shakespeare

Poem of the day

A March Day In London
 by Amy Levy

The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.

From end to end, with aimless feet,
...

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