Sonnets Thou- What

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd
To me, fair friend, you never can be old
Two loves I have of comfort and despair

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy
What is your substance, whereof are you made
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears
What's in the brain, that ink may character

First Lines in alphabetical order

Poems - Index