First, for effusions due unto the… My solemn vows have here accomplis… Next, how I love thee, that my gr… Wherein thou liv’st for ever.—Dea…

Life is the body’s light; which, o… Those crimson clouds i’ th’ cheeks… Those counter-changed tabbies in t… The sun once set, all of one colou… So, when death comes, fresh tinctu…

Let’s call for Hymen if agreed th… Delays in love but crucify the hea… Love’s thorny tapers yet neglected… Speak thou the word, they’ll kindl… The nimble hours woo us on to wed,

Weigh me the fire; or canst thou f… A way to measure out the wind? Distinguish all those floods that… Mixed in that wat’ry theater, And taste thou them as saltless th…

A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d… Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but… Long I have lasted in this world;… But yet those years that I have l… Who by his gray hairs doth his lus…

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed ni… Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light, Or to seal up the sun. No marigolds yet closed are,

Sapho, I will chuse to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice, and endless snow; Rather than I once would see But a winter’s face in thee,—

By those soft tods of wool, With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain,

When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray’d thee, For old religion’s sake, Saint Ben to aid me. Make the way smooth for me,

Man is a watch, wound up at first,… Wound up again; Once down, he’s d… The watch once down, all motions t… The man’s pulse stopt, all passion…

Ah, Posthumus! our years hence f… And leave no sound: nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keep the wrinkle from the brow… But we must on,

Good things, that come of course,… Than those which come by sweet con…

Command the roof, great Genius, a… Into this house pour down thy infl… That through each room a golden pi… Of living water by thy benizon; Fulfil the larders, and with stren…

Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this silken twist; For what other reason ’tis But to show thee how, in part, Thou my pretty captive art?

If thou dislik’st the piece thou l… Think that of all that I have wri… But if thou read’st my book unto t… And still dost this and that verse… O perverse man! If all disgustful…