Sonnet 075: So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life
William Shakespeare
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found. Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure; Sometimes all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starvèd for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight Save what is had, or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 076: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride?
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 077: Thy Glass Will Show Thee How Thy Beauties Wear
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 078: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 079: Whilst I Alone Did Call Upon Thy Aid
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 080: O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 081: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 082: I Grant Thou Wert Not Married To My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 083: I Never Saw That You Did Painting Need
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 084: Who Is It That Says Most, Which Can Say More
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 085: My Tongue-tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 074: But Be Contented When That Fell Arrest
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 073: That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 072: O, Lest The World Should Task You To Recite
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 071: No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 070: That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 069: Those Parts Of Thee That The World's Eye Doth View
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 068: Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 067: Ah, Wherefore With Infection Should He Live
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 066: Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 065: Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea