The Sonnets XLVIII - How careful was I when I took my way

How careful was I when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lockd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
And even thence thou wilt be stoln I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

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 CIII - Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CXLII - Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets XLI - Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CXXVI - O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Sonnets CXXV - Weret aught to me I bore the canopy

Weret aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all and more by paying too much rent
For compound sweet; forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No; let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mixd with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborned informer! a true soul
When most impeachd, stands least in thy control.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CX - Alas! tis true, I have gone here and there

Alas! tis true, I have gone here and there,
And made my self a motley to the view,
Gord mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offences of affections new;
Most true it is, that I have lookd on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays provd thee my best of love.
Now all is done, save what shall have no end:
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confind.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XCII - But do thy worst to steal thyself away

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But whats so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LII - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special-blest,
By new unfolding his imprisond pride.
Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope.

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

The Sonnets LXXXVII - Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou knowst thy estimate,
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thy self thou gavst, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me to whom thou gavst it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

William Shakespeare