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O Mistress Mine

by William Shakespeare

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,That can sing both high and low:Trip no further, - pretty sweeting;Journeys end in lovers meetingEvery wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;Present mirth hath present laughter;What's to come is still unsure:In delay there lies not plenty;Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,Youth's a stuff will not endure. Sonnet XI by William Shakespeare As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st In one of thine, from that which thou departest; And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase; Without this, folly, age and cold decay: If all were minded so, the times should cease And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish: Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.