William Shakespeare famous poems-love poems in English
William Shakespeare famous poems, love poems in English, Shakespeare love poem for him, Shakespeare love poem for her, William Shakespeare poem for lovers, William Shakespeare poem for girlfriend, William Shakespeare poem for boyfriend.
William Shakespeare famous poems
Love Sonnet 1
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
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,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel,
Thou that art 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.
If I should think of love
I’d think of you, your arms uplifted,
Tying your hair in plaits above,
The lyre shape of your arms and shoulders,
The soft curve of your winding head.
No melody is sweeter, nor could Orpheus
So have bewitched. I think of this,
And all my universe becomes perfection.
But were you in my arms, dear love,
The happiness would take my breath away,
No thought could match that ecstasy,
No song encompass it, no other worlds.
If I should think of love,
I’d think of you.
William Shakespeare poem for lovers
Shy love, I think of you
As the morning air brushes the window
pane, And how much time of all it takes to
know The movement of your arm, the steps
you take, The curves along your head, your
ears, your hair. For all of this, each hand,
each finger, Each lip, each breath, each sigh,
Each word and sound of voice or tongue,
I would require an age to contemplate.
But for your heart your mind your
thoughts, all these, To love them
all I need at least five centuries.
Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Therefore my verse to constancy confined,
One thing expressing leaves out a difference.
Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,
Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope
affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often lived
alone, Which three till now, never kept
seat in one.
William Shakespeare poem for him/her
Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be,
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I’ll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay
To honor thy decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And ‘t shall do so for thee.
Bid me to weep and I will weep
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet will I keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I’ll despair
Under that cypress tree.
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E’en death to die for thee.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.
Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.
When there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
If love comes, he will enter
And will find out the way.
You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
A coward for his flight;
But if she whom Love doth honor
Be concealed from the day —
Set a thousand guards upon her
Love will find out the way.
You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist:
Or you may inveigle
The Phoenix of the east;
The lioness, you may move her
To give o’er her prey;
But you’ll ne’er stop a lover –
He will find out the way.
If the earth it should part him,
He would gallop it o’er;
If the seas should overthwart him,
He would swim to the shore;
Should his love become a swallow,
Through the air to stray,
Love will lend wings to follow,
And will find out his way.
There is no striving
To cross his intent;
There is no contriving
His plots to prevent;
But if once the message greet him
That his true love doth stay,
If death should come and meet him,
Love will find out the way!
William Shakespeare poem for girlfriend/Boyfriend
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the Muse
‘Tis a brave master –
Let it have a scope.
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope.
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wings unspent,
But it is a god,
Knows its own path
And the outlets of the sky.
It was never for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Such ‘will reward:
They will return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love:
Yet hear me yet,
One word more thy heart behooved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor:
Keep thee today,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid,
But when the surprise
First vague shadow of surmise
Flits across her bosom young,
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free;
Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem.
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay;
Though her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
When half-gods go
The gods arrive.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damased, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
that music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go, –
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the
And yet, by heave, I think my love as rare
As any, she belied with false compare.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue,
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed,
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told,
Therefore I lie with her, and she with.
The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow’d chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d,
And so the general of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm’d.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love’s fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased, but I, my mistress’ thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.
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