William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Lxvi

Poem by William Shakespeare

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

Comments about Sonnet Lxvi by William Shakespeare

  • John William (7/16/2018 12:10:00 AM)

    What is this poem about?(Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
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  • Denis Prosser (7/11/2017 12:07:00 PM)

    Brilliant poem. I could read this again and again and not tire of it.(Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Denis Prosser (7/11/2017 12:04:00 PM)

    One of repetitive nature of the poem enforces his message.(Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Brian JaniBrian Jani (4/26/2014 10:48:00 AM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out(Report)Reply

    3 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: strength, faith, truth, alone, death, love, sonnet

Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001

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