Shall I compare thee to a dark winter night?
Shall I compare thee to a dark winter night?
Thou art more complex and more constant:
Rough winds do shake the circular and beaming moon,
And winter’s lease hath all too long a date:
Sometimes the cold is bearable to the frame,
And often is her white complexion dimmed;
And those that lost their complexion will regain it,
By chance or nature’s changing course clutters;
But thy eternal winter shall not fade
Nor lose possession of thy winter allure;
Nor shall death gloat about thou,
When in eternal metres thou will grow:
So long as we can breath or eyes can see,
So long this and this gives life to thee.
poem by Jeffrey Liminsang
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Shall I compare thee to a winter’s night?
Shall I compare thee to a winter’s night?
Thou art more pleasant and more control:
Rough winds do shake the falling flakes of winter,
And winter’s lease hath all to long of a vigour:
Sometimes too cold for the eyes of winter to excel,
And often its white complexion glistens;
And from fair to fair its icy complexion is hidden,
By chance or nature’s changing course thou decline;
But thy eternal winter’s day shall not dimmed
Nor lose thy effects on thy winter’s day;
Nor shall thy demise crow thou roam in its silhouette,
When in eternal canto thou glow:
So long as mankind can breathe and eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee
poem by Jeffrey Liminsang
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18)
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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What Would Shakespeare's Beloved Say?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Please do and let me have my say.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
First time I hear this and tend to believe it
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
Your words do shake my heart a lot today.
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
I wish I could say something as great.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
How nice the words, how lovely the signs!
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
I wish these nice words were untrimmed.
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
And when we die our memories will be shrines.
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
How bright the day how beautiful and undimmed!
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
For in your poetry I will be remade?
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.
I'm happy to play your temperate host.
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
But we will die and our bodies fade.
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
I will die and be covered with too much dust.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long my poet, because I shall not be
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
So long again, for thou will soon forget me.
poem by Omar Jabak
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Shall I compare thee to a romantic night?
Shall I compare thee to a romantic night?
Thou art more glorious and more stunning:
Rough winds do shake thy beauty and thy loveliness,
And romantic night hath all too short of a date:
Sometimes too cold for the lovers to enjoy,
And often it amorous beauty has gone un-notice;
And from fair to fair its passion is dimmed,
By chance or nature’s changing course thy tender beauty is eternal;
But thy eternal loveliness shall not diminish;
Nor lose thy possession on thy loving heart;
Nor shall romance destroy thy relation;
When in undying lines thou beaming beauty are shown
So long as human can love and eyes can grasp,
So long live this and this gives life to thee
poem by Jeffrey Liminsang
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Exemplary - after William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare her? In what galaxy,
And when or where? No mirror could reflect
Nature's epitome so talent decked,
Gainsaying self, Time holds all time in fee!
Telescopes in vain seek other sun
One half as bright, whose universal joy,
Might Big Bang justify, all it begun.
All would exchange their place for her employ.
Myths don truth’s dress, coeval, - past, to be,
Aeons root, shoot, fruit, tree, end and start,
Under, above, in, out, earth, sky and sea,
Do merge, name frame as “all in one” apart.
Exemplary, all praise she’ll gain through giving,
Cycles may spin, yet one, though lost stays living.
© Jonathan Robin & Maude Corrieras Acrostic Sonnet Sang to ma Maude C 17 June 2008
Author notes
Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often in his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Shall I Compare Thee to an Autumn Day
Shall I compare thee to an autumn day?
From the coolness of a breeze;
to the changing colors of the leaves.
Indeed you are more complex then either of these things.
Yet thou are just as beautiful as the season.
And as long as thou will allow me too
I shall love thee no matter what thou mood.
I just hope and pray thou allow me to love thee forever
Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
No. Summers in Africa are hot as hell:
Rough dusty winds our thatched huts shake
While heaven's bloodshot eye on boiling our brains concentrates;
That's the reason we are technologically Third rate.
Shall I then compare thee to a winter's day?
What is winter? Not in Africa have I heard of that;
Two ironic seasons do we have:
One hot as hell, the other
Wet as hell (like Noah's day) .
I shall thence leave the weather to the gods,
I shan't deal with the African weather, my love.
Thou art to me most precious
Than the rarest of precious metals.
poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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A Hymn To Christ At The Author's Last Going Into Germany
In what torn ship soever I embark,
That ship shall be my emblem of thy Ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood;
Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.
I sacrifice this Island unto thee,
And all whom I loved there, and who loved me;
When I have put our seas 'twixt them and me,
Put thou thy sea betwixt my sins and thee.
As the tree's sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in my winter now I go,
Where none but thee, th' Eternal root
Of true Love, I may know.
Nor thou nor thy religion dost control
The amorousness of an harmonious Soul,
But thou wouldst have that love thyself: as thou
Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now,
Thou lov'st not, till from loving more, Thou free
My soul: who ever gives, takes liberty:
O, if thou car'st not whom I love
Alas, thou lov'st not me.
Seal then this bill of my Divorce to All,
On whom those fainter beams of love did fall;
Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be
On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee.
Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light:
To see God only, I go out of sight:
And to 'scape stormy days, I choose
An Everlasting night.
poem by John Donne
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Winter's sun
There is something about the winter's sun,
That aspires hope after struggle
The wait for tomorrow after
long cold shivering nights;
is the optimism attached
to the winter's sun.
There is something about the winter's sun.
The Florescence of the beaming rays
the calmness of the flowing sunshine:
convinces me about the warmth,
of the winter's sun
There is something about the winter's sun.
The tender hugging of the sunbeams
on the exposed numb body:
confirms about the comfort provided
by the winter's sun
There is something about the winter's sun.
Those for whom is the winter's suffering
the warmth of the sun is also for them.
Relieving them that, a part of the
sunshine belongs to them
Of the winter's sun.
poem by Azmat Naushad Asif
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How Do I Know Thee 07
How does thou know me
How should I compare thee
Does thou remindest me of the sea
Do I compare thee with winter or spring
Should I sing thee a song of land and light
Nay, I shall contrive a sonnet of sky
The masses of stars and feathering clouds
The cleansing of rain and ferocity of thunder
Thy heart is vast, like no other
Thine eyes drink me as thy presence
Thy voice whispers like sirens
Calling mine eye to a mass of mystery
And mine soul to tenderness
Curious that the more I know
The more I need
How does thou know me
How do I know thee
poem by Kira Bloom
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Eternal Time, That Wastest Without Waste
Eternal Time, that wastest without waste,
That art and art not, diest, and livest still;
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste;
Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill:
How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise?
Dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days.
Both free and scarce, thou giv'st and tak'st again;
Thy womb that all doth breed, is tomb to all;
What so by thee hath life, by thee is slain;
From thee do all things rise, by thee they fall:
Constant, inconstant, moving, standing still;
Was, Is, Shall be, do thee both breed and kill.
I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out;
The farther off, the more I follow thee;
The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt;
Was, Is, I know; but Shall, I cannot see.
All things by thee are measur'd; thou, by none:
All are in thee; thou, in thyself alone.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day?
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? "
I think you may be right,
But you would be better off to say:
"I compare thee to a winter's night! "
For she is so cold and unforgiving,
If such a fool would try
To venture forth for conquests,
Then such a fool would die.
To take on such a winter
You truly must prepare,
All summer long work hard, work strong,
Prepare your winters fare.
Gather fire-wood and bedding,
Clothes and curtains too,
Get ready for the siege of winter,
Prepare all the autumn through.
Now bolt your doors and windows,
(The time for travel now is through) ,
Light the fire and retire
And let winter come to you.
poem by Neil Milliner
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Wintertime
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please
poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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For The Birthday of Edgar Allan Poe
(January 19, 1909)
Poet of doom, dementia, and death,
Of beauty singing in a charnel house,
Like the lost soul of a poor moon-mad maid,
With too much loving of some lord of hell;
Doomed and disastrous spirit, to what shore
Of what dark gulf infernal art thou strayed,
Or to what spectral star of topless heaven
Art lifted and enthroned?
The winter dark,
And the drear winter cold that welcomed thee
To a world all winter, gird with ice and storm
Thy January day-yea! the same world
Of winter and the wintry hearts of men;
And still, for all thy shining, the same swarm
That mocked thy song gather about thy fame,
With the small murmur of the undying worm,
And whisper, blind and foul, amid thy dust.
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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Wine by the Fire on a Cold Winter Night
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night a Gelid concordant. The snows of winter has fallen; and the
Winds are decrescent
Wildlife are
Indefatigable
In
Winter-land
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night. Monumental snows are glaciated; and the
Valleys below are elongated
In an alabaster,
Powdery
Splendor.
Engaging winter, where polar bears are denning
And accumbented in a long
Winter sleep. Winter's prelusory; for the translucent amber,
Gild, of autumn to a dulcify
In their joining. As we dine epicurean, in the comforts of clover;
And bonivant on tasty
Wines.
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night as we
Amorously commingle as one in A fervent that's
Second to None And the taste of
Wine by the fire on a cold winter
Night.
poem by Jr. J. Thomas
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A Madrigal
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sports,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:-
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee-
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
poem by William Shakespeare
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O Heart of Spring
O HEART of Spring!
Spirit of light and love and joyous day,
So soon to faint beneath the fiery Summer:
Still smiles the Earth, eager for thee alway:
Welcome art thou, soever short thy stay,
Thou bold, thou blithe newcomer!
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?
O heart of Spring!
After the stormy days of Winter’s reign,
When the keen winds their last lament are sighing,
The Sun shall raise thee up to life again:
In thy dim death thou shalt not suffer pain:
Surely thou dost not fear this quiet dying?
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?
O heart of Spring!
Youth’s emblem, ancient and unchanging light,
Uncomprehended, unconsumed, still burning:
Oh that we could, as thou, rise from the night
To find a world of blossoms lilac-white,
And long-winged swallows unafraid returning…
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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