Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts:
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, "This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces."
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage,
And stretchèd metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.
written by William Shakespeare, published on Sun 02.01.2009 at 23:28
The forward violet thus did I chide:
"Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
written by William Shakespeare, published on Sat 01.03.2009 at 14:09
O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from my self depart
written by William Shakespeare, published on Tue 12.23.2008 at 18:19
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee Time's furrows I behold,
written by William Shakespeare, published on Mon 12.22.2008 at 06:25
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest,
written by William Shakespeare, published on Wed 12.17.2008 at 15:37
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing,