Sonnets Xvii by William Shakespeare

O NEVER say that I was false of heart,Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify!As easy might I from myself depart,As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:That is my home of love; if I have ranged,Like him that travels I return again,Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,So that myself

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Sonnets Xvi by William Shakespeare

WHEN in the chronicle of wasted timeI see descriptions of the fairest wights,And beauty making beautiful old rimeIn praise of Ladies dead and lovely Knights;Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,I see their antique pen would have exprestEven such a beauty as you master now.So

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Sonnets Xv by William Shakespeare

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 coldHave from the forests shook three Summers’ pride;Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn turn’dIn process of the seasons have I seen,Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,Since first I saw

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Sonnets Xiv by William Shakespeare

MY love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear:That love is merchandised whose rich esteemingThe owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.Our love was new, and then but in the spring,When I was wont to greet it with my lays;As Philomel in summer’s front doth singAnd stops her pipe

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Sonnets Xiii by William Shakespeare

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,That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him.Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smellOf different flowers in odour and in hue,Could make me any summer’s story tell,Or from their proud

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Sonnets Xii by William Shakespeare

HOW like a Winter hath my absence beenFrom thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,What old December’s bareness everywhere!And yet this time removed was summer’s time;The teeming Autumn, big with rich increase,Bearing the wanton burden of the primeLike widow’d wombs after their Lord’s decease:Yet this abundant issue

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Sonnets Xi by William Shakespeare

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,Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow–They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,And husband nature’s riches from expense;They are the Lords and owners of their faces,Others, but stewards of their excellence.The summer’s flower

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Sonnets X by William Shakespeare

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,And do not drop in for an after loss:Ah! do not, when my heart hath ‘scaped this sorrow,Come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe;Give not a windy night a

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