William Shakespeare

For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man, that mocks at it, and sets it light.

For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man, that mocks at it, and sets it light.

At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

Thou said'st--O, it comes o'er my memory
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to read more

Thou said'st--O, it comes o'er my memory
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all!--He had my handkerchief.

So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown
When judges have been babes; great floods have flown
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So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown
When judges have been babes; great floods have flown
From simple sources, and great seas have dried
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.