Shakespeare's Sonnets

by William Shakespeare

Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee

Calls back the lovely April of her prime; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,

Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. But if thou live, r...

Die single, and thine image die...

Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.