Thus is his cheek the map of days… When beauty lived and died as flow… Before these bastard signs of fair… Or durst inhabit on a living brow; Before the golden tresses of the d…

When that I was and a little tiny… With hey, ho, the wind and the rai… A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man’s estate,

Why didst thou promise such a beau… And make me travel forth without m… To let base clouds o’ertake me in… Hiding thy brav’ry in their rotten… ’Tis not enough that through the c…

How can my Muse want subject to i… While thou dost breathe, that pour… Thine own sweet argument, too exce… For every vulgar paper to rehearse… O, give thyself the thanks, if aug…

For shame, deny that thou bear’st… Who for thy self art so unproviden… Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belo… But that thou none lov’st is most… For thou art so possessed with mur…

Thus can my love excuse the slow o… Of my dull bearer, when from thee… From where thou art, why should I… Till I return, of posting is no n… O, what excuse will my poor beast…

When forty winters shall besiege t… And dig deep trenches in thy beaut… Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed… Will be a tatter’d weed, of small… Then being ask’d where all thy bea…

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful… These rebel powers that thee array… Why dost thou pine within and suff… Painting thy outward walls so cost… Why so large cost, having so short…

THAT time of year thou may’st in… When yellow leaves, or none, or fe… Upon those boughs which shake agai… Bare ruin’d choirs where late the… In me thou see’st the twilight of…

That thou hast her, it is not all… And yet it may be said I loved he… That she hath thee is of my wailin… A loss in love that touches me mor… Loving offenders, thus I will exc…