William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Xl

Poem by William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.


Comments about Sonnet Xl by William Shakespeare

  • * Sunprincess * (7/2/2015 3:27:00 PM)

    .........beautiful sonnet, especially love the first two lines ★(Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Brian JaniBrian Jani (4/26/2014 2:53:00 PM)

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

    1 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: poverty, grief, hate, love, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001

Poem Edited: Monday, May 21, 2001