Shakespeare's Sonnets

by William Shakespeare

Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

But if thou live, remember’d not to be, Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

Be not self-will’d, for thou art much too fair To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.

But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice,—in it and in my rhyme.

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

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

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ! To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note,

Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease,

If thy unworthiness rais’d love in me, More worthy I to be belov’d of thee.