Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch
Long after Phoebus took his lab'ring team
Look, Delia, how w'esteem the half-blown rose
Look how the flower which ling'ringly doth fade
Lords of the world's great waste, the ocean, we
Love in my bosom, like a bee
Love on a day, wise poets tell
Loving in truth and fain in verse my love to show
Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde
Maids to bed, and cover coal
Mark when she smiles with amiable chcare
Martial, the things that do attain
Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Mortality, behold and fear
My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not
My galley, charged with forgetfulness
My love is as a fever, longing still
My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming
My soul, there is a country
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore
Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep
No more, my dear, no more these counsels try
No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be
Not to know Vice at all, and keep true state
Not winds to voyagers at sea
Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse
Now is the time for mirth
Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger
Now the hungry lion roars
Now turne againe my teme, thou jolly swayne
Now winter nights enlarge
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide
O joy too high for my low style to show
O mistress mine, where are you roaming
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
O Sorrow, Sorrow, say where dost thou dwell
O wearisome condition of humanity
Occasions drew me early to this city
Of all our parts, the eyes express
Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of your trouble, Ben, to ease me
On a day-alack the day
On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood
Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow
One day I wrote her name upon the strand
“Open the door! Who's there within"
Out upon it, I have loved
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day
Passions are likened best to floods and streams
Phoebus, arise.
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair
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See, Chloris, how the clouds .
See the chariot at hand here of Love
See where my love a-Maying goes
See'st not, my love, with what a grace
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
Shall I, then, hope when faith is fled
Shall I, wasting in despair
Shepherds all, and maidens fair
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sister, awake! close not your eyes
Sisters, stay; we want our dame
Sitting by a river side
Sleep, Silence' child, sweet father of soft Rest
Sneape has a face so brittle that it breaks
So oft as homeward I from her depart
So smooth, so sweet, so silv'ry is thy voice .
Soul's joy, bend not those morning stars from me
Southward through Eden went a river large
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Still to be neat, still to be drest
Sure thou didst flourish once; and many springs
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content
Sweet country life, to such unknown
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave
Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight
Sweetest love, I do not go
Take, O take those lips away
Teach me, my God and King
Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
The forward youth that would appear
The glories of our blood and state
The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest
The man of life upright
The morning of that day which was his last
The shaddow of the earth anon
The soote season that bud and bloom forth brings
The sovereign castle of the rocky isle
The wrathful winter, 'proaching on apace .
Then, as a nimble squirrel from the wood
Then walked they to a grove but near at hand
There is a garden in her face
There the most daintie paradise on ground
These little limbs
They are all gone into the world of light
This is the month, and this the happy morn
This little vault, this narrow room .
This only grant me: that my means may lie
This said, old Nestor mixt the lots. The foremost lot surveyed
This world a hunting is
Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare
Thou that mak'st gain thy end, and wisely well
Thou who some ages hence these rolls dost read
Though clock.
Though you be absent here, I needs must say
Thrice happy he who by some shady grove
Thrice, O thrice happy shepherd's life and state
Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed
Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air
Time was, and that was termed the time of gold
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name
To me, fair friend, you never can be old
To whom the Fiend, with fear abasht, replied
To-night, grave sir, both my poor house and I
Two loves I have of comfort and despair
Two pretty rills do meet, and, meeting. make
Under the greenwood tree
Underneath this sable herse
We saw, and wooed each other's eyes
We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan .
Weep you no more, sad fountains
Well-meaning readers, you that come as friends
Were I as base as is the lowly plain
What bird so sings, yet so does wail
What is it all that men possess, among themselves conversing
What needs my Shakespear for his honoured bones
What time this worlds great Wo:kmaister did cast
When a daffadil I see
When, fearing tears should win
When God at first made man
When I consider how my light is spent
When I do count the clock that tells the time
When I survey the bright
When I was forced from Stella ever dear
When icicles hang by the wall
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
When Love with unconfinèd wings .
When my love swears that she is made of truth
When Sorrow, using mine own fire's might.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When we for age could neither read nor write
Whenas in silks my Julia goes
Where art thou, Sol, while thus the blindfold Day
Where the bee sucks, there suck I
Whether the Turkish new moon minded be
Whiles Laocon, that chosen was by lot
Who can live in heart so glad
Who is Silvia ? what is she
Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be
Why I tie about thy wrist
Why so pale and wan, fond lover
With Fido, Knowledge went, who ordered right
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies
Wouldst thou hear what man can say
Ye blushing virgins happy are
Ye little birds that sit and sing
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
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