William Shakespeare Poems

Hit Title Date Added
81.
Sonnet 119: What Potions Have I Drunk Of Siren Tears

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw my self to win!
...

82.
Sonnet 118: Like As To Make Our Appetite More Keen

Like as to make our appetite more keen
With eager compounds we our palate urge,
As to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge.
...

83.
Sonnet 111: O, For My Sake Do You With Fortune Chide

O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.
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84.
Sonnet 153: Cupid Laid By His Brand And Fell Asleep

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 that ground;
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85.
Sonnet 8: Music To Hear, Why Hear'st Thou Music Sadly?

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
...

86.
Sonnet 19: Devouring Time Blunt Thou The Lion's Paws

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 long-lived phoenix, in her blood,
...

87.
Sonnet 152: In Loving Thee Thou Know'st I Am Forsworn

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing:
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
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88.
Sonnet 147: My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.
...

89.
Sonnet 115: Those Lines That I Before Have Writ Do Lie

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer;
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer,
...

90.
The Blossom

ON a day--alack the day!--
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
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