Sonnets from The Portuguese


I. I thought once how Theocritus had sung...
II. But only three in all God's...
III. Unlike are we, unlike...
IV. Thou hast thy calling to some...
V. I lift my heavy heart up ...
VI. Go from me. Yet I feel that I ...
VII. The face of all the world is ch...
VIII. What can I give thee back, O...
IX. Can it be right to give what...
X. Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
XI. And therefore if to love can be desert
XII. Indeed this very love which is my boast
XIII. And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
XIV. If thou must love me, let it be for nought
XV. Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
XVI. And yet, because thou overcomest so
XVII. My poet thou canst touch on all the notes
XVIII. I never gave a lock of hair away
XIX. The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize
XX. Beloved, my beloved, when I think

Note:  We currently have only up through sonnet number XIII (thirteen) available on this site.  The remaining sonnets will be available soon.

 



Cherish your visions. Cherish your ideals. Cherish the music that stirs in your heart, the beauty that forms in your mind, the loveliness that drapes your purest thoughts, for out of them will grow all delightful conditions, all heavenly environment; of these, if you but remain true to them, your world will at last be built.
~ James Allen, from As a Man Thinketh 
 

In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet