The Sonnets XXVII - Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear respose for limbs with travel tird;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when bodys works expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my souls imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

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 LXVII - Ah! wherefore with infection should he live

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets XLI - Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

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

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CLII - In loving thee thou knowst I am forsworn

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 LXVI - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplacd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgracd,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalld simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tird with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LXI - Is it thy will, thy image should keep open

Is it thy will, thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou sendst from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake:
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXVIII - How can I then return in happy plight

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When days oppression is not easd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressd,
And each, though enemies to eithers reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexiond night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gildst the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make griefs length seem stronger.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XLIII - When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadows form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

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 VII - Lo! in the orient when the gracious light

Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage:
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract, and look another way:
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon:
Unlookd, on diest unless thou get a son.

William Shakespeare