No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:

YOU spotted snakes with double tongue,Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong;Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody,Sing in our sweet lullaby;Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!Never harm,Nor spell nor charm,Come our lovely lady nigh;So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here;Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence!Beetles black, approach…

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…

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,So far from variation or quick change?Why with the time do I not glance asideTo new-found methods and to compounds strange?Why write I still all one, ever the same,And keep invention in a noted weed,That every word doth almost tell my name,Showing their birth and where they…

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 silver’d o’er with white;When lofty trees I see barren of leavesWhich erst from heat did canopy the herd,And summer’s green all girded up in sheavesBorne on the bier…

But wherefore do not you a mightier wayMake war upon this bloody tyrant, Time,And fortify your self in your decayWith means more blessèd than my barren rhyme?Now stand you on the top of happy hours,And many maiden gardens yet unset,With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,Much liker than your painted counterfeit:So should the lines…

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,Unmovèd, 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…

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,Not royal in their smells alone,But in their hue;Maiden pinks, of odour faint,Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,And sweet thyme true; Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;Merry springtime’s harbinger,With her bells dim;Oxlips in their cradles growing,Marigolds on death-beds blowing,Larks’-heels trim; All dear Nature’s children sweetLie ‘fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,Blessing their sense!Not…