Shakespeare's Sonnet 157*

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Like wailing eyasses away are torn
From aeries, taken wherefore they know not;
As weeds atwain were we at first suborn
To cry out for the grand and noble lot;
Yet twain, as foundlings lost, we both had found
Some welcome comfort in a mis'ry shar'd;
From sorrow of our losses were we bound -
Our anger and confusion made us pair'd;
The dark cold days which formerly had turn'd
To pillows soaked by red flowing eyes
Did by addition of a friendship earn'd
Through loving kindness turn to bright blue skies.
     This, love, our love, is what I do recall
     And though you've fallen, This remains withal

Created: May 20, 2012


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