William Shakespeare Poems

  • 401.  
    Full fathom five thy father lies;
    Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes:
  • 402.  
    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,
  • 403.  
    But, lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by,
    A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
  • 404.  
    I.
    When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies,
  • 405.  
    What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
    Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears,
  • 406.  
    O, lest the world should task you to recite
    What merit lived in me, that you should love After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
  • 407.  
    Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
    [......] these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
  • 408.  
    Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
    Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
  • 409.  
    Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
    Is lust in action; and, till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody full of blame,
  • 410.  
    Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,
    So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before,
  • 411.  
    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,
  • 412.  
    Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
    Hath not old customs make this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
  • 413.  
    Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
    Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
  • 414.  
    When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
    For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
  • 415.  
    Against my love shall be, as I am now,
    With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn; When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
  • 416.  
    Full many a glorious morning have I seen
    Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
  • 417.  
    Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
    Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control,
  • 418.  
    Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
    Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
  • 419.  
    Were't aught to me I bore the canopy,
    With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity,
  • 420.  
    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!
  • 421.  
    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,
  • 422.  
    O, that you were your self! But, love, you are
    No longer yours than you yourself here live. Against this coming end you should prepare,
  • 423.  
    If there be nothing new, but that which is
    Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which, labouring for invention bear amis
  • 424.  
    Let those who are in favour with their stars
    Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
  • 425.  
    Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
    As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
  • 426.  
    HOW like a Winter hath my absence been
    From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
  • 427.  
    O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
    With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight,
  • 428.  
    Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
    Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
  • 429.  
    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,
  • 430.  
    That god forbid, that made me first your slave,
    I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave,
  • 431.  
    What is your substance, whereof are you made,
    That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since everyone hath, everyone, one shade,
  • 432.  
    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,
  • 433.  
    Let me confess that we two must be twain,
    Although our undivided loves are one; So shall those blots that do with me remain,
  • 434.  
    The little Love-god lying once asleep
    Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep
  • 435.  
    When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
    I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
  • 436.  
    BEING your slave, what should I do but tend
    Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend,
  • 437.  
    Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
    That thou consum'st thy self in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
  • 438.  
    When daisies pied, and violets blue,
    And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
  • 439.  
    FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing,
    And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
  • 440.  
    How careful was I, when I took my way,
    Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unusèd stay
  • 441.  
    LET me not to the marriage of true minds
    Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds,
  • 442.  
    From fairest creatures we desire increase,
    That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease,
  • 443.  
    Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all
    Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
  • 444.  
    Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,
    Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
  • 445.  
    How can my muse want subject to invent,
    While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
  • 446.  
    My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
    Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
  • 447.  
    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,
  • 448.  
    So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
    And found such fair assistance in my verse As every alien pen hath got my use
  • 449.  
    That god forbid that made me first your slave,
    I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave,
  • 450.  
    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,
Total 513 poems written by William Shakespeare

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I heard a cry in the night,
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Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
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