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ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF SONNETS
A B C D
F H I L
M N O P
S T U W
Y
A
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted…
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all…
Against my love shall be, as I am now…
Against that time, if ever that time come…
Ah! wherefore with infection should he live…
Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth…
Alas! 'tis true I have gone here and there…
As a decrepit father takes delight…
As an unperfect actor on the stage…
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st…
B
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press…
Being your slave, what should I do but tend…
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan…
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took…
But be contented: when that fell arrest…
But do thy worst to steal thyself away…
But wherefore do not you a mightier way…
C
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not…
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep…
D
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws…
F
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing…
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any…
From fairest creatures we desire increase…
From you have I been absent in the spring…
Full many a glorious morning have I seen…
H
How can I then return in happy plight…
How can my Muse want subject to invent…
How careful was I, when I took my way…
How heavy do I journey on the way…
How like a winter hath my absence been…
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st…
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame…
I
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse…
I never saw that you did painting need…
If my dear love were but the child of state…
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought…
If there be nothing new, but that which is…
If thou survive my well-contented day…
If thy soul check thee that I come so near…
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes…
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn…
In the old age black was not counted fair…
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye…
Is it thy will thy image should keep open…
L
Let me confess that we two must be twain…
Let me not to the marriage of true minds…
Let not my love be call'd idolatry…
Let those who are in favour with their stars…
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore…
Like as, to make our appetites more keen…
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch…
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light…
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest…
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage…
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate…
Love is too young to know what conscience is…
M
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war…
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd…
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?..
My glass shall not persuade me I am old…
My love is as a fever, longing still…
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming…
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun…
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still…
N
No longer mourn for me when I am dead…
No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done…
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change…
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck…
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments…
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul…
O
O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head…
O that you were yourself! but, love, you are…
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power…
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends…
O, call not me to justify the wrong…
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide…
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might…
O, how I faint when I of you do write…
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem…
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing…
O, lest the world should task you to recite…
O, never say that I was false of heart…
Or I shall live your epitaph to make…
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you…
P
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth…
S
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault…
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?..
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye…
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea…
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind…
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key…
So are you to my thoughts as food to life…
So is it not with me as with that Muse…
So oft have I invok'd thee for my Muse…
So shall I live, supposing thou art true…
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine…
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill…
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness…
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said…
T
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all…
That god forbid that made me first your slave…
That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect…
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief…
That time of year thou mayst in me behold…
That you were once unkind befriends me now…
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame…
The forward violet thus did I chide…
The little Love-god lying once asleep…
The other two, slight air and purging fire…
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now…
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface…
They that have power to hurt and will do none…
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me…
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame…
Those lines that I before have writ do lie…
Those lips that Love's own hand did make…
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view…
Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits…
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art…
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes…
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence…
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn…
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts…
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain…
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear…
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd…
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry…
To me, fair friend, you never can be old…
Two loves I have of comfort and despair…
U
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend…
W
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse…
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed…
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy…
What is your substance, whereof are you made…
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears…
What's in the brain, that ink may character…
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long…
When forty winters shall besіеge thy brow…
When I consider everything that grows…
When I do count the clock that tells the time…
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd…
When in the chronicle of wasted time…
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see…
When my love swears that she is made of truth…
When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light…
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought…
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes…
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid…
Who is it that says most, which can say more…
Who will believe my verse in time to come…
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will…
Why is my verse so barren of new pride…
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day…
Y
Your love and pity doth the impression fill…
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