|From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! |
|What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! |
|What old December's bareness every where! |
|And yet this time removed was summer's time, |
|The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, |
|Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, |
|Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease: |
|Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me |
|But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; |
|For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, |
|And, thou away, the very birds are mute; |
| Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer |
| That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's |
|near. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 98
|XCVIII. |
|From you have I been absent in the spring, |
|When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim |
|Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, |
|That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. |
|Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell |
|Of different flowers in odour and in hue |
|Could make me any summer's story tell, |
|Or from their proud lap pluck them where they |
|grew; |
|Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, |
|Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; |
|They were but sweet, but figures of delight, |
|Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. |
| Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, |
| As with your shadow I with these did play. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 99
|XCIX. |
|The forward violet thus did I chide: |
|Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet |
|that smells, |
|If not from my love's breath? The purple pride |
|Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells |
|In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. |
|The lily I condemned for thy hand, |
|And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: |
|The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, |
|One blushing shame, another white despair; |
|A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both |
|And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; |
|But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth |
|A vengeful canker eat him up to death. |
| More flowers I noted, yet I none could see |
| But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 100
|C. |
|Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long|
| |
|To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? |
|Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, |
|Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? |
|Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem |
|In gentle numbers time so idly spent; |
|Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem |
|And gives thy pen both skill and argument. |
|Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, |
|If Time have any wrinkle graven there; |
|If any, be a satire to decay, |
|And make Time's spoils despised every where. |
| Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;|
| |
| So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked |
|knife. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 101
|CI. |
|O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends |
|For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? |
|Both truth and beauty on my love depends; |
|So dost thou too, and therein dignified. |
|Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say |
|'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; |
|Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; |
|But best is best, if never intermix'd?' |
|Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? |
|Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee |
|To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, |
|And to be praised of ages yet to be. |
| Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how |
| To make him seem long hence as he shows now. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 102
|CII. |
|My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in |
|seeming; |
|I love not less, though less the show appear: |
|That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming |
|The owner's tongue doth publish every where. |
|Our love was new and then but in the spring |
|When I was wont to greet it with my lays, |
|As Philomel in summer's front doth sing |
|And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: |
|Not that the summer is less pleasant now |
|Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, |
|But that wild music burthens every bough |
|And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. |
| Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, |
| Because I would not dull you with my song. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 103
|CIII. |
|Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, |
|That having such a scope to show her pride, |
|The argument all bare is of more worth |
|Than when it hath my added praise beside! |
|O, blame me not, if I no more can write! |
|Look in your glass, and there appears a face |
|That over-goes my blunt invention quite, |
|Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. |
|Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, |
|To mar the subject that before was well? |
|For to no other pass my verses tend |
|Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; |
| And more, much more, than in my verse can sit |
| Your own glass shows you when you look in it. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 104
|CIV. |
|To me, fair friend, you never can be old, |
|For as you were when first your eye I eyed, |
|Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold |
|Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,|
| |
|Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd |
|In process of the seasons have I seen, |
|Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, |
|Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.|
| |
|Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, |
|Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; |
|So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth |
|stand, |
|Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: |
| For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; |
| Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 105
|CV. |
|Let not my love be call'd idolatry, |
|Nor my beloved as an idol show, |
|Since all alike my songs and praises be |
|To one, of one, still such, and ever so. |
|Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, |
|Still constant in a wondrous excellence; |
|Therefore my verse to constancy confined, |
|One thing expressing, leaves out difference. |
|'Fair, kind and true' is all my argument, |
|'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; |
|And in this change is my invention spent, |
|Three themes in one, which wondrous scope |
|affords. |
| 'Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone,|
| |
| Which three till now never kept seat in one. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 106
|CVI. |
|When in the chronicle of wasted time |
|I see descriptions of the fairest wights, |
|And beauty making beautiful old rhyme |
|In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, |
|Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, |
|Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, |
|I see their antique pen would have express'd |
|Even such a beauty as you master now. |
|So all their praises are but prophecies |
|Of this our time, all you prefiguring; |
|And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, |
|They had not skill enough your worth to sing: |
| For we, which now behold these present days, |
| Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.|
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 107
|CVII. |
|Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul |
|Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, |
|Can yet the lease of my true love control, |
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