Beberapa Puisi Dari Shakespeare
Take,o take those lips away
by William Shakespeare
Take,o take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes,the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn!
But my kisses bring again,
Bring again;
Seals of love,but seal'd in vain,
Seal'd in vain!
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 meeting
Every 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.
Dirge Of Love
by William Shakespeare
Come away, come away,Death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away,breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white,stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse,-where my bones shall be thrown;
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave
To weep there.
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.
Thout that are now the world’s fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.
WHEN forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tottered weed of small worth held:
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more prasie deserved thy beauty’s use
If thou couldst answer, ‘This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,’
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st cold.
A Fairy Song by William Shakespeare
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear
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