Poems by William Shakespeare

I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedic...

Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence yo...

O, how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in th...

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the ti...

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The ...

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul and all my every part;
And for this s...

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
S...

If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Whic...

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you ...

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which b...

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no...

That god forbid that made me first your slave,
I should in thought control your times of pleasu...

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each...

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire...

Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gra...