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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

17

celled woe,

hang

birds sang.

Golden lads and girls all must, And with old woes new wail my dear As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, Fear no more the frown o' the great, For precious friends hid in death's dateThou art past the tyrant's stroke;

less night, Care no more to clothe, and eat;

And weep afresh love's long-since-canTo thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must And moan the expense of many a vanAll follow this, and come to dust.

ished sight.

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, Fear no more the lightning flash,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Fear not slander, censure rash;

Which I new pay as if not paid before. Thou hast finished joy and moan: But if the while I think on thee, dear All lovers young, all lovers must

friend, Consign to thee, and come to dust.

All losses are restored, and sorrows

end.
No exorciser harm thee!
Vor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

That time of year thou mayst in me beNothing ill come near thee!

hold
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave.

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do
Upon those boughs which shake against

the cold,
SONNETS.

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet When in disgrace with fortune and in me thou seest the twilight of such day,

As after sunset fadeth in the west, I all alone beweep my outcast state, Which by and by black night doth take And trouble deaf heaven with my boot

away, less cries,

Death's second self, that seals up all in And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

rest. Wishing ine like to one more rich in In me thou seest the glowing of such hope,

fire, Featured like him, like him with friends That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, possessed,

As the death-bed whereon it must exDesiring this man's art, and that man's

pire, scope,

Consumed with that which it was nourWith what I most enjoy contented least; ished by. Yet in these thoughts myself almost de

This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy spising,

love more strong, Haply I think on thee,

and then my

To love that well which thou must state

leave erelong. (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heav

en's gate ; For thy sweet love remembered, such They that have power to hurt and will wealth brings,

do none, That then I scorn to change my state That do not do the thing they most do with kings.

show, Who, moving others, are themselves as

stone, Whes to the sessions of sweet silent Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; thought

They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, I summon up remembrance of things past, And husband nature's riches from exI sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, pense ;

men's eyes,

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