sonnets
60
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being...
59
Un très mauvais livre plein du racisme banal et stupide et dont le seul rapport avec ce sonnet est d'être écrit (?) en Anglais. If there be nothing new, but that which is Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd, Which labouring for invention bear...
58
That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O! Let me suffer, being at your beck, the imprison'd absence...
Une contribution essentielle
William, 'tel qu'en lui-même...' Le temps était venu de répondre définitivement à cette question qui a agité les plus grands esprits depuis près de cinq cent ans: qui se cache derrière Shakespeare, prénom William ? Nous devons à Monsieur Gregor Kiene*...
57
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...
56
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allayed, To-morrow sharpened in his former might: So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with...
55
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work...
54
Rosier des Chiens ou Rosier des haies ou Églantier des chiens ou Rosa canina O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give. The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour, which doth in it live....
53
Ménélas et Hélène, cratère attique vers 450-440 av.J.C. What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and...
52
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming in the long...
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