To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyed,Such seems your beauty still. Three winters coldHave from the fore...
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,That having such a scope to show her pride,The argument all bare is of more worthThan when it hath my added p...
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear:That love is merchandized whose rich esteemingTh...
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amendsFor thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?Both truth and beauty on my love depends;So dost thou too, and therein ...
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so longTo speak of that which gives thee all thy might?Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song...
The forward violet thus did I chide:Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,If not from my love's breath? The purple prideWhich...
From you have I been absent in the spring,When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trimHath put a spirit of youth in every thing,That heavy Saturn...
How like a winter hath my absence beenFrom thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!What old December&#...
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;Thou makest...
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shameWhich, like a canker in the fragrant rose,Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!O, in what sweets dost...