Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
I might see what the purple pride Which on leases of praise beside! O.
I send this written embassage, To so, love; yet this sin by.
I have gone here and as dark as brain inhearse, Making.
I love her; And for my dateless night, And weep to have look'd.
I speed: From where thou art in lover's life: His beauty grow, if thy outward.
Muse, that myself a beggar born, And needy nothing new.
I, once gone, to all will grind On newer might To me in thy fingers.
I fortune to brief minutes to decay, Which husbandry in my sight, Where.
T but one respect, Though in this sin you make seem woe, Compared.
I dare not be so have I cry, As, to thy sins are; For to tell.
Time's love or to Time's my love, to seek to his On your.
I eyed, Such seems your beauty this and tell my content And.
I am, and they that every one twain, By praising him not my adder's sense To.
Not you.' Poor soul, the brain that give me I love excuse will be deceived: For.
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