Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Sonnet's of Shakespeare~



When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing i sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear

times' waste.

Then can i drown an eye in death's

dateless night,

And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.

Then can i grieve at grievances


And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoaned


Which i new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while i think on

thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored,

and sorrows end.



Full many a glorious

morning have i seen.

Flatter the mountain tops

with sovereign eye,

Kissing with golden face

the meadows green,

Gilding pale streams with

heavenly alchemy,

Anon permit the basest

clouds to ride

With ugly rack on his

celestial face,

And from the forlorn

world his visage hide,

Stealing unseen to west

with this disgrace.

Ev'n so my sun one early

morn did shine

With triumphant

splendor on my brow;

But out alack, he was but

one hour mine;

The region cloud hath

masked him from me


Yet him for this

my love no whit


Suns of the world

may stain when heav'n's

sun staineth.

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