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'st flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself 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, makest waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. 

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Tuesday, July 12, 2011 - 00:38

Poesia Consagrada :

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Shakespeare

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Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 110: Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there 0 4.998 07/12/2011 - 00:59 English
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Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming 0 4.222 07/12/2011 - 00:50 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends 0 5.002 07/12/2011 - 00:43 English
Poesia Consagrada/General Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long 0 5.025 07/12/2011 - 00:42 English
Poesia Consagrada/Sonnet Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any 0 4.588 07/12/2011 - 00:40 English
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