How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' The beast that bears me, tired

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

Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse And found such fair assistance in my verse As every alien pen hath got my use And under thee their poesy disperse. Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality, Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,

Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now, Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss: Ah, do not, when my heart hath

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of outworn buried age, When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed And brass eternal slave to mortal rage, When I have seen the hungry ocean

So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? 'Tis not enough that through

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 untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all, What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. Then if

When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white, When lofty trees I see barren

I never saw that you did painting need And therefore to your fair no painting set, I found, or thought I found, you did exceed The barren tender of a poet's debt, And therefore have I slept in your report,

If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. No, it was builded

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality, Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war How to divide the conquest of thy sight, Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. My heart doth plead that thou

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye That thou consumest thyself in single life? Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die. The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife, The world will be thy widow and still

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey in my head, To work my mind, when body's work's expired: For then my thoughts, from far where

Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. Great princes' favourites their

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full