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First Three Sonnets Of William Shakespeare

From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decrease, His tender heir mught
William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 1: From Fairest Creatures We Desire Increase

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decrease,
His tender heir mught bear his memeory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed’st thy light’st flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

Many of the sonnets promise eternal fame to the youth
Many of the sonnets promise eternal fame to the youth

Sonnet 2: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter’d weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask’d where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty’s use,
If thou couldst answer ‘This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,’
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.

The Sonnets' dedication reads: “To the only begetter of these ensuing sonnets Mr WH
The Sonnets' dedication reads: “To the only begetter of these ensuing sonnets Mr WH

Sonnet 3: Look In Thy Glass, And Tell The Face Thou Viewest

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear’d womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime:
So thou through windows of thine age shall see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember’d not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

All Images: Google 

English poet, playwright, and actor William Shakespeare was born in 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon in England. Considered the greatest writer in English ever born, he wrote 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems.

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