Sonnet 5: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame
William Shakespeare
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Will play the tyrants to the very same And that unfair which fairly doth excel; For never-resting Time leads summer on To hideous winter and confounds him there, Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere. Then, were not summer's distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it nor no remembrance what it was. But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 50: How Heavy Do I Journey On The Way
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 51: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 52: So Am I As The Rich Whose Blessd Key
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 53: What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 55: Not Marble, Nor The Gilded Monuments
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 56: Sweet Love, Renew Thy Force, Be It Not Said
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 57: Being Your Slave, What Should I Do But Tend
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 58: That God Forbid, That Made Me First Your Slave
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 59: If There Be Nothing New, But That Which Is
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 49: Against That Time, If Ever That Time Come
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 48: How Careful Was I, When I Took My Way
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 47: Betwixt Mine Eye And Heart A League Is Took
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 46: Mine Eye And Heart Are At A Mortal War
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 45: The Other Two, Slight Air And Purging Fire
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 44: If The Dull Substance Of My Flesh Were Thought
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 43: When Most I Wink, Then Do Mine Eyes Best See
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 42: That Thou Hast Her, It Is Not All My Grief
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 41: Those Pretty Wrongs That Liberty Commits
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 40: Take All My Loves, My Love, Yea, Take Them All