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Sonnet 18
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, And summer's lease hath all too short a date, Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;


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