And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn!
But my kisses bring again,
Bring again;
Seals of love, but seal’d in vain,
Seal’d in vain!
Similar Posts
Sonnet 98: From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring by William Shakespeare
From you have I been absent in the spring,When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smellOf different flowers in odour and in hueCould make me any summer’s story tell,Or from their…
Sonnet Xcvii 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 every where!And yet this time removed was summer’s time,The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:Yet this abundant…
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
But when in thee Time’s furrows I behold,Then look I death my days should expiate.For all that beauty that doth cover theeIs but the seemly raiment of my heart,Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.How can I then be elder than thou art?O, therefore, love, be of thyself so waryAs I not…
Sonnet 141: In Faith, I Do Not Love Thee With Mine Eyes by William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note;But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.Nor are mine cars with thy tongue’s tune delighted,Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invitedTo any…
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
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 conquered woe;Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,To linger out a purposed overthrow.If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,When other petty…
Those lips that Love’s own hand did make
To me that languish’d for her sake;But when she saw my woeful state,Straight in her heart did mercy come,Chiding that tongue that ever sweetWas used in giving gentle doom,And taught it thus anew to greet:‘I hate’ she alter’d with an end,That follow’d it as gentle dayDoth follow night, who like a fiendFrom heaven to hell…