Sonnet 076: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride?
William Shakespeare
Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent.
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 077: Thy Glass Will Show Thee How Thy Beauties Wear
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 078: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 079: Whilst I Alone Did Call Upon Thy Aid
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 080: O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 081: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 082: I Grant Thou Wert Not Married To My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 083: I Never Saw That You Did Painting Need
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 084: Who Is It That Says Most, Which Can Say More
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 085: My Tongue-tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 086: Was It The Proud Full Sail Of His Great Verse
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- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 075: So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 074: But Be Contented When That Fell Arrest
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 073: That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 072: O, Lest The World Should Task You To Recite
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 071: No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 070: That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 069: Those Parts Of Thee That The World's Eye Doth View
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 068: Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 067: Ah, Wherefore With Infection Should He Live
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 066: Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry