Unit 2: Selection Vocabulary 4

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 dimm'd

And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

But we by a love so much refined
That our selves know not what it is

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run.

Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honor more.