Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
I wonder at the lily's hate' To me love that which sourly leave her.
I under my transgression bow, Unless thy proud livery, so.
I know she lies, That she blind soul cheque thee lie! Thou.
I would be brought, From limits will, thy great receipt.
I do fawn upon? Nay, if ] these all, and wrinkles; when my heart's right.
O, how can Love's eye in their wealth, or thy power Dost.
I seek, my weary travel's wilt not, grew to hell of love: if.
Helen's cheek the eye loves what strong hand the centre.
Will' to boot, and 'Will' what he that guides my love's.
I bore the canopy, With my for ornament of their woe, That every humour.
Muse doth give another place. I first-born flowers, and look on.
I hold such strife As 'twixt every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown.
I journey on the way, When this and look on my frailties that I behold, Then.
Muse Stirr'd by the ambush of battering days, When rocks.
Regenerate Sonnet