Shakespeare’s Sonnets

XVIII XXIII LIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  As an unperfect actor on the stage,  What is your substance, whereof are you made, 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Who with his fear is put besides his part, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? 
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Since every one hath, every one, one shade, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;  And you, but one, can every shadow lend. 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit 
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  The perfect ceremony of love's rite,  Is poorly imitated after you; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd; O'ercharg'd with burden of mine own love's might.  And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 
But thy eternal summer shall not fade O let my books be then the eloquence  Speak of the spring and foison of the year; 
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,  The one doth shadow of your beauty show, 
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, Who plead for love and look for recompense  The other as your bounty doth appear, 
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;  More than that tongue that more hath more express'd. And you in every blessed shape we know. 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,    O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:     In all external grace you have some part, 
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.    To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.     But you like none, none you, for constant heart. 

CXXIX
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
   All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
   To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
CXXX
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 damask'd, 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. 

Sonnets retrieved from http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/ on April 3 rd.