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Shakespeare's  Sonnet . . .
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?


&/\&/\&/\&/\&/\&

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate;

Rought winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possesion of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest;

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

&/\&/\&/\&/\&/\&

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