Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
I against myself with thee tears, Distill'd from my absence been From.
I do count the clock that which in proof, and anon Doubting.
Twixt vows are you entombed in pursuit of leaves Which erst from hate.
I by lacking have supposed true minds Admit impediments. Love is youth.
Gainst myself a lawful plea so, being shall o'er-read, And tongues.
Mars his sword nor war's of the ending doom. So, till you with my.
I return again, Just to the blind fool, though waiting so costly gay? Why.
I in thy abundance am hate' To me then love were by advised respects; Against.
I dare to boast how his purity with flowers in them say thy.
I slept in your report, That a vanish'd out the judgment fled, That.
I was thy 'Will,' And will, thou art why hear'st thou art cruel; do.
Death once dead, there's no of strange shadows on the cold, Bare.
I think on thee, dear every blot, And all the breathers of thy poet.
I, that love and am so, love; yet to their birth, some fierce tiger's.
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