The Sonnets, William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare

The Sonnets

The Signet Classic Shakespeare series contains the preeminent mass market books of the complete works of Shakespeare. This reissue features a new Overview by Sylvan Barnet, former chairman of the English Department at Tufts University, an updated Bibliography, suggested references, and stage and film history.
61 printed pages

Other versions


Reem shared an impression25 days ago
👍Worth reading
💞Loved Up

Nađa Vujković
Nađa Vujkovićshared an impression3 months ago

hy35614shared an impressionlast year


Putri Hasquita
Putri Hasquitahas quoted4 years ago
Calls back the lovely April of her prime,
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live remembered not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.

Rappelle la belle avril de son premier,
Si tu à travers les fenêtres de ton âge, tu vois,
En dépit des rides ton temps en or.
Mais si tu y vivent ne se souvenait pas d'être,
Mourir seul et ton image meurt avec toi.

Serafima Shakharova
Serafima Shakharovahas quoted6 years ago
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 hour,
Whilst I (my sovereign) watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
Ирина Осипенко
Ирина Осипенкоhas quoted3 days ago
The forward violet thus did I chide,

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells,

In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.

The lily I condemned for thy hand,

And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair,

The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,

One blushing shame, another white despair:

A third nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,

And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,

But for his theft in pride of all his growth

A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,

But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee.


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