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Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XII
Sonnet XI Sonnet XIII XII When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls, all silvered…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXX
Sonnet CXIX Sonnet CXXI CXX That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXI
Sonnet CXX Sonnet CXXII CXXI 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, When not to be receives reproach of being; And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd Not by our feeling, but…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXII
Sonnet CXXI Sonnet CXXIII CXXII Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full character'd with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain, Beyond all date; even to…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXIII
Sonnet CXXII Sonnet CXXIV CXXIII No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXIV
Sonnet CXXIII Sonnet CXXV CXXIV If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd, As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXV
Sonnet CXXIV Sonnet CXXVI CXXV 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…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXVI
Sonnet CXXV Sonnet CXXVII CXXVI O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his fickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st Thy lovers…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXVII
Sonnet CXXVI Sonnet CXXVIII CXXVII In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slander'd…Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CXXVIII
Sonnet CXXVII Sonnet CXXIX CXXVIII How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st The wiry…Trending
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