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Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.
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Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry
-- Sonnet lxxxvii
Related:
And art made tongue-tied by authority.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lxvi...
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet iii...
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet l...
My nature is subdu'd To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cxi...
No, I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cxxi...
And beauty, making beautiful old rhyme.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cvi...
Like stones of worth, they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lii...
Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cv...
That full star that ushers in the even.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cxxxii...