New sonnets from Shakespeare.
One every five minutes.

SONNET DXCIV
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Or me to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
Making no summer of another's green,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
   If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin
   Even that your pity is enough to cure me.

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