Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lxxxvii...
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xviii...
And art made tongue-tied by authority.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lxvi...
When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xcviii...
And beauty, making beautiful old rhyme.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cvi...
And stretched metre of an antique song.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xvii...
Full many a glorious morning have I seen.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xxxiii...
Like stones of worth, they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lii...
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet l...