Poetry Catalog

What’s in the brain, that ink may character,Which hath not figur’d to thee my true spirit?What’s new to speak, what now to register,That may express my love, or thy dear merit?Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,I must each day say o’er the very same;Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,Even as when first I hallow’d thy fair name.So that eternal love in … [Read more...] about Sonnet 108: What’s In The Brain, That Ink May Character, By: William Shakespeare

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soulOf the wide world dreaming on things to come,Can yet the lease of my true love control,Supposed as forfeit to a confin’d doom.The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur’d,And the sad augurs mock their own presage;Incertainties now crown themselves assur’d,And peace proclaims olives of endless age.Now with the drops of this most balmy … [Read more...] about Sonnet 107: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor The Prophetic Soul, By: William Shakespeare

Let not my love be call’d idolatry,Nor my beloved as an idol show,Since all alike my songs and praises beTo 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 confin’d,One thing expressing, leaves out difference.‘Fair, kind, and true,’ is all my argument,‘Fair, kind, and true,’ … [Read more...] about Sonnet 105: Let Not My Love Be Call’d Idolatry, By: William Shakespeare

Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,That having such a scope to show her pride,The argument, all bare, is of more worthThan 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 faceThat over-goes my blunt invention quite,Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,To mar … [Read more...] about Sonnet 103: Alack! What Poverty My Muse Brings Forth, By: William Shakespeare

My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear;That love is merchandiz’d, 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 … [Read more...] about Sonnet 102: My Love Is Strengthen’d, Though More Weak In Seeming, By: William Shakespeare