Poems by William Shakespeare

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving,
O, but ...

Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch
One of her feathered creatures broke away,
Sets down her...

Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The bett...

Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breath'd forth the sound that said I hate
To me that lan...

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
My sinful earth these rebel powers array,
Why dost t...

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that...

O me! What eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Or, if ...

Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not,
When I against my self with thee partake?
Do I not t...

When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge st...

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me...

Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then...

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing:
In ...

Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep,
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-ki...

The little love god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many ny...

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time,
And fortify you...