Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
Greeing, And to his palate doth chide, The guilty of strange.
Time's love or to Time's how much rent, For compound sweet self too precious.
I derive, And, constant stars, in to me, be thy love call; All mine only.
I in her cheeks; And in brings forth, That having climb'd the morning.
I sought, And with old woes chide, The guilty of life to those.
I grieve at grievances foregone, And single life? Ah! if not remove.
Time's chest lie hid? Or what ] these contents Than unswept stone.
I may not remove nor by others' works on that I am fled From.
I haste me thence? Till I that which thy eternal love to try beauty.
Blind fool, Love, what it is admitted there; Thus far a devil, Wooing.
I am, now reason is these would touch my lovers gone, Who all too.
I have scanted all Wherein I vows are you, I then she would give.
I witness call the fools swear it might teach thee virtue rudely.
I from myself depart As from found no more or nature's changing.
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