William Shakespeare›Poezii

What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you,

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay\'d, To-morrow

How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel\'s end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say \'Thus far the miles are

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then despite of space I would be brought, From

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou art why should I haste me thence? Till I

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love

Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation

The other two, slight air and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide; The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other: When that mine eye is famish\'d for a look, Or heart in

How can my Muse want subject to invent, While thou dost breathe, that pour\'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every

That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in love

Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Call\'d to that

As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by fortune\'s dearest spite, Take all my comfort of

How careful was I, when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in

Let me confess that we two must be twain, Although our undivided loves are one: So shall those blots that do with me remain Without thy help by me

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy picture\'s sight would bar, My heart mine

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o\'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy

If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale