The Sonnets XCVIII - From you have I been absent in the spring

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughd and leapd with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summers story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lilys white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemd it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet, and actor, regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. Known as the 'Bard of Avon,' his extant works include approximately 39 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets I - From fairest creatures we desire increase

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXII - Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXXVI - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXXV - My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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The Sonnets XCVII - How like a winter hath my absence been

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old Decembers bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summers time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widowd wombs after their lords decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemd to me
But hope of orphans, and unfatherd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winters near.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets V - Those hours, that with gentle work did frame

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty oer-snowed and bareness every where:
Then were not summers distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beautys effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distilld, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XLV - The other two, slight air, and purging fire

The other two, slight air, and purging fire
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppressd with melancholy;
Until lifes composition be recurd
By those swift messengers returnd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assurd,
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again, and straight grow sad.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XVIII - Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summers lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmd,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or natures changing course untrimmd:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst,
Nor shall death brag thou wanderst in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growst,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CIV - To me, fair friend, you never can be old

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyd,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turnd,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burnd,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceivd;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceivd:
For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beautys summer dead.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CIX - O! never say that I was false of heart

O! never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemd my flame to qualify,
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have rangd,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchangd,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe though in my nature reignd,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be staind,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

William Shakespeare