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Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CLIII

Sonnet CLII Sonnet CLIV CLIII Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CLIV

Sonnet CLIII CLIV 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 Came tripping by; but in her…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XVI

Sonnet XV Sonnet XVII XVI But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify your self in your decay With means more blessed than my barren…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XVII

Sonnet XVI Sonnet XVIII XVII 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 Which hides your life…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XVIII

Sonnet XVII Sonnet XIX XVIII 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, And summer's lease hath all…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XIX

Sonnet XVIII Sonnet XX XIX Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: II

Sonnet I Sonnet III II 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, Will be a tatter'd weed of small…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XX

Sonnet XIX Sonnet XXI XX 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 With shifting change, as…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XXI

Sonnet XX Sonnet XXII XXI 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 And every fair with his fair doth…

Sonnets by William Shakespeare: XXII

Sonnet XXI Sonnet XXIII XXII 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, Then look I death my days…