Shakespeare Sonnet Generator

Sonnet #155

by William Shakespeare
Muse And therefore art all his hide; Which heavily he.
I'll live in this poor in wanting words which thou to.
Will' to boot, and 'Will' brag thou lovest me, to my appeal says she.
Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of for my sin awards me with you, Drink.
Thou single wilt prove none.' Is these all, or my stain. Never believe.
Scoped this sorrow, Come in the I to mend, To mar the world an.
I spur, though mounted on single life? Ah! if never say more.
Thou thy heart, Thy beauty as mine, No shape so gazed on me.
I was wont to greet as he can lend, Thou truly show Of mouthed graves.
Philomel in summer's front doth thou steal thee I have.
Scoped this bloody spur cannot be so fair with thine eye is.
I, being pent in thee, Perforce hate' To me like a better equipage: But.
Nature store, To show false Art laugh'd and change your sight And by that.
I do love thee; Till then first-born flowers, and I slept in him as the.
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