That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory;
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thout that are now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
by William Shakespeare
some william shakespeare books you can buy.
- Twelve Plays by Shakespeare
- A Midsummer Night's Dream
- A Midsummer Night's Dream (Wordsworth Classics) (Wadsworth Collection)
- Othello
wil. shakespeare |
DONATE a BITCOIN
1G3xFu4UfXW1Uxd4oH8pYwBdBo3nqz3LRb
Gonna risk getting some hate for this but I've never been a fan of Shakespeare. To me his work always seemed transparent and predictable.
ReplyDeleteWonderful! Awesome!
ReplyDeleteGreat poem.
ReplyDeleteI had to read this in English 101
ReplyDeletebackflash to english class
ReplyDeletewhere are the master pieces of poetry of Calvin & Hobbes ?
ReplyDeletein his palace burn; Following!
ReplyDeletegreat poem
ReplyDelete+follow
I think I used sonnet 44 for an english essay once.
ReplyDelete