Sonnet I: From fairest creatures we desire increase
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
I never saw that you did painting need
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that …
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most de
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow which I then did feel
Needs must I under my transgression bow,