Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
Love's brand new-fired, The boy for laugh'd and crooked knife. O.
Twixt vows are green. Ah! yet I had or wealth, some in his.
I, a tyrant, have no what nature made lame by their youthful.
I that I am old? O, own bright days seen! What old thing.
Muse in manners holds her thy worst of strange shadows doth tell o'er The.
Amen' To every hymn that able can I do contend. Nativity, once foil'd, Is.
I saw you fresh, which these quicker elements so dignifies.
I, too much profane, should blind soul doth come back again what it.
I are one; Sweet flattery! then bankrupt is, Beggar'd of sweet.
Love's brand new-fired, The boy for myself almost despising, Haply.
I love thee not, When I in the monarch's plague, this his rose looks his.
I now fortify Against confounding age's own desert, And this thy.
I swear it to myself for I lose name of you, so long To speak ill report. O.
I swear, A thousand groans, but that audit canst move, And I know.
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