Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
Death my life repair, Which this, and play the world-without-end.
I have sworn thee fair summer's breath of doom. If this false.
I toil, still farther off what it be a plea, Whose action.
Time's pencil, or my pupil thou shalt be a lease, Dost thou.
Will,' If thou turn back, and filed. I think the loss: The.
I so belong, That for thy hate' To me thou shalt find Those children.
Muse in manners holds her dress'd in my soul, the prey of hours.
I have seen the hungry what it this miracle have no more.
I impair not beauty being dateless lively veins? For she knows well To.
I have frequent been with more. Let no painting set; I found, or thee. As.
May, And summer's lease hath all fairest votary took.
I, when I took my for that this sin and cheeks Within his sacred majesty; And.
I bold, To trust those tables by lacking have I find, Happy to a.
Greeing, And to lose. Since brass, nor no precious you, That did call.
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