That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journey’s end in lovers’ meeting-
Every wise man’s son doth know.
What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,-
Then come kiss me, Sweet and twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
Similar Posts
Sonnet Xciii by William Shakespeare
So shall I live, supposing thou art true,Like a deceived husband; so love’s faceMay still seem love to me, though alter’d new;Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:For there can live no hatred in thine eye,Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.In many’s looks the false heart’s historyIs writ in moods and…
Sonnet Xxxix by William Shakespeare
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,When thou art all the better part of me?What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?And what is ‘t but mine own when I praise thee?Even for this let us divided live,And our dear love lose name of single one,That by this separation I may…
Sonnet 79: Whilst I Alone Did Call Upon Thy Aid by William Shakespeare
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,But now my gracious numbers are decayed,And my sick Muse doth give an other place.I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argumentDeserves the travail of a worthier pen,Yet what of thee thy poet doth inventHe robs thee of, and pays it thee…
So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
And for the peace of you I hold such strifeAs ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found.Now proud as an enjoyer, and anonDoubting the filching age will steal his treasure;Now counting best to be with you alone,Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure;Sometimes all full with feasting on your sight,And by and…
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’stThy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow’st.If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skillMay Time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!She may detain, but not still…
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.Then if for my love thou my love receivest,I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivestBy wilful taste of what thyself refusest.I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,Although thou steal…