Is it thy will thy image should ke… My heavy eyelids to the weary nigh… Dost thou desire my slumbers shoul… While shadows like to thee do mock… Is it thy spirit that thou send’st…

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fas… In one of thine, from that which t… And that fresh blood which youngly… Thou mayst call thine when thou fr… Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and i…

If there be nothing new, but that… Hath been before, how are our brai… Which, labouring for invention bea… The second burthen of a former chi… O, that record could with a backwa…

When forty winters shall beseige 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…

ROSES, their sharp spines being… Not royal in their smells alone,    But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quain…

That time of year thou mayst in me… 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…

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…

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…