Shakespeare was actually an adulterer...(sigh) but her sure can write beautiful stuff. these are some of my favs by Wild Bill...my studens have to memorize a sonnet and present it to class. (insert evil grin) and then give us their interpretation!!!! If you are looking for love poems no one beats Pablo Neruda and Kahil Gibrain. For my wedding I researched love sayings and printed them off on fancy paper and put them in silver frames on all the reception tables. It was beautiful.
31
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye As interest of the dead, which now appear But things removed that hidden in thee lie! Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, Who all their parts of me to thee did give: That due of many now is thine alone. Their images I loved I view in thee, And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
36
Let me confess that we two must be twain Although our undivided loves are one; So shall those blots that do with me remain Without thy help by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite Which, though it alter not love's sole effect, Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. I may not evermore acknowledge thee Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with public kindness honour me Unless thou take that honour from thy name. But do not so. I love thee in such sort As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report
39
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring, And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone. O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, And that thou teachest how to make one twain By praising him here who doth hence remain!
130
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 damasked, 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 ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
