Poems by William Shakespeare

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
...

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when ...

Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon...

Like as, to make our appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge,
As, to p...

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow which I then did feel
Needs mu...

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd,
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the...

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full character'd with lasting memory,
Which shall ...

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To m...

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured...

Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great ba...

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
W...

How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
Wit...

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For ...

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough f...

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirit...