William Shakespeare Poems
|44.||Sonnets to the Sundry Notes of Music||3/30/2010|
|45.||Sonnets LX: Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shor||1/1/2004|
|46.||Sonnets LIII: What is your substance, whereof are you made||1/1/2004|
|52.||Sonnets CXXIX: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame||1/1/2004|
|53.||Sonnets CXVI: Let me not to the marriage of true minds||1/1/2004|
|54.||Sonnets CXLVI: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth||1/1/2004|
|55.||Sonnets CX: Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there||1/1/2004|
|56.||Sonnet XXXVIII: How Can My Muse Want Subject to Invent||1/3/2003|
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;