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Proving his beauty by succession thine? And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
This were to be new made when thou art old, Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
And see thy blood warm, when thou feel so it Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
cold.

Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
III.

But when from high-most pitch, with weary car,
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thon viewest, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
Now is the time that face should form another, The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,

From his low tract, and look another way; Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,

For where is she so fair, whose un-ear'd womb Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

VIII.
Or who is he so fond, will be the tomb

Music to hear, why hear'st thon music sadly? Of his self-love, to stop posterity ?

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not Calls back the lovely April of her prime:

gladly? So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?.

Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, But if thou live, remember'd not to be,

By unions married, do offend thine ear, Die single, and thine image dies with thee. They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds IV.

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, Resembling sire and child and happy mother, And being frank, she lends to those are free. Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

Then, beauteous niggard ,' why dost thou abuse Whose speechless song, being many, seeming ope, The bounteous largess given thee to give ? Sings this to thee, 'thou single wilt prove none.' Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

IX. So great a sum of sums, yet capst not live?

Is it for fear to.wet a widow's eye, For having traffic with thyself alone,

That thou consumest thyself in single life? Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die, Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,

The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife; What acceptable audit canst thon leave ?

The world will be thy widow and still weep, Thy unused beauty must be tomb’d with thee,

That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
Which used lives thy executor to be.

When every private widow well may keep:
V.
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame,

By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind.

Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend, The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Will play the tyrants to the very same,

Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;

But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, And that unfair, which fairly doth excell; For never-resting time leads summer on

And kept unused, the user so destroys it.

No love toward others in that bosom sits, To hideous winter, and confounds him there;

That on himself such murderous shame commits. Sap check'd with frost, and lusty leaves quite

X. gone, Beauty o'ersnow'd, and bareness every where:

For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any, Then, were not summer's distillation left,

Who for thyself art so unprovident. A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,

Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,

But that thou none lovest, is most evident: Nor it, por no remembrance what it was.

For thon art so possess'd with murderous hate, But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,

That 'gainst thyself thou stick’st not to conspire, Leese but their show; their substance still lives Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate, sweet.

Which to repair should be thy chief desire. VI.

O change thy thought, that I may change my Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

mind! In thee thy summer, e'er thou be distill’d: Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Make sweet some phial, treasure thou some place Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-killid. Or to thyself, at least, kind-hearted prove: That use is not forbidden usury,

Make thee another self, for love of me, Which happies those that pay the willing loan;

That beauty still may live in thine or thee. That's for thyself to breed another thee,

XI. Or ten times happier, be it ten for one ;

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, In one of thine, from that which thou departest; If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: And that fresh blood which youngly thou beThen, what could death do, if thou shouldst de

stow'st, part,

Thou may'st call thine, when thou from youth Leaving thee living in posterity?

convertest, Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair Herein lives wisdom, beanty, and increase; To be death's conquest, and make worms thine Without this, folly, age, and cold decay: heir.

If all were minded so, the times should cease, VII.

And threescore years would make the world away. Lo, in the orient when the gracious light Let those whom nature hath not made for store, Lifts

up

his burning head, each under eye Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

more ;

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Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty Now stand you on the top of happy hours ; cherish:

And many maiden gardens yet unset, She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Thou shouldst print more, nor let that copy die. Much liker than your painted counterfeit; XII.

So should the lines of life that life repair, When I do count the clock that tells the time, which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

Neither in inward worth, nor outward fair, When I behold the violet past prime,

Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. Aud sable curls, all silver'd o'er with white; To give away yourself, keeps yourself still; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

And you must live, drawn by your own sweet

skill. Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,

XVII. Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard ; Who will believe my verse in time to come,

Then of thy beauty do I question make, If it were fill'd with your most high deserts ? That thou among the wastes of time must go, Though yet heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,

Which hides your life, and shews not half your And die as fast as they see others grow;

parts. And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make de If I could write the beauty of your eyes, fence,

And in fresh numbers number all your graces, Save breed, to brave him, when he takes thee The age to come would say, this poet lies, hence.

Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces. XIII.

So should my papers, yellowed with their age, O that you were yourself! but, love, you are Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue; No longer your's, than you yourself here live:

And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage, Against this coming end you should prepare, And stretched metre of an antique song: And your sweet semblance to some other give.

But were some child of yours alive that time, So should that beauty which you hold in lease, You should live twice;-in it, and in my rhyme. Find no determination: then you were

XVIII.
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should Shell I compare thee to a summer's day?
bear.

Thou art moro lovely and more temperate: Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, Which husbandry in honour might uphold

Apd sammer's lease hath all too short a date : Against the stormy gusts of winter's day,

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And barren rage of death's eternal cold? And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; 0! none bat unthrifts :-Dear my love, you know

And every fair from fair sometime declines, You had a father; let your son say so.

By chance, or natur's changing course untrimm'd; XIV.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Aud yet methinks I have astronomy,

Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest; But not to tell of good, or eril luck,

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality: Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

XIX.
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind;
Or say, with princes if it shall go well,

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, By oft predict that I in heaven find:

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And (constant stars) them I read such art, And burn the long lived phoenix in her blood; As truth and beauty shall together thrive,

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert: And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, Or else of thee this I prognosticate,

To the wide world, and all her fading sweets; Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. But I forbid thee one most heinous crime; XV.

O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, When I consider every thing that grows

Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; Holds in perfection but a little moment,

Him in thy course untainted do allow, That this huge state presenteth nought but shows For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Whereon the stars in secret influence comment:

Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, When I perceive that men as plants increase, My love shall in my verse ever live young. Cheer'd and check'd even by the self-same sky:

XX. Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted, And wear their brave state out of memory; Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;

Then the conceit of his inconstant stay A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,

With shifting change, as is false women's fashion ; Where wasteful time debateth with decay,

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in To change your day of youth to sullied night;

rolling,
And, all in war with time, for love of you, Gilding the object whereapon it gazeth;
As he takes from you, I engraft you new. A man in hue all hæos in his controlling,
XVI.

Which steals men's eyes, and women's soul amaz · But wherefore do not you a mightier way

eth. Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time ?

And for a woman wert thou first created : And fortify yourself in your decay

Till nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? And by addition me of thee defeated,

sure.

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, But since she prick'd thee out for women's plea- But as the marigold at the sun's eye ; sure,

Aud in themselves their pride lies buried,
Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their trea- For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,
XXI.

After a thousand victories once foil'd,
So it is not with me, as with that muse, Is from the book of honour razed quite,
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse;

And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd. Who heaven itself for ornament doth use, Then happy I, that love and am beloved, And every fair with his fair doth rehearse ; Where I may not remove, nor be removed. Making a couplement of proud compare,

XXVI. With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare To thee I send this written embassage,

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.

To witness duty, not to shew my wit. O let me, true in love, but truly write,

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine And then believe me, my love is as fair,

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it; As any mother's child, though not so bright,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:

In thy soul's thought, all naked will bestow it; Let them say more that like of hear-say well; Till whatsoever

star that guides my moving, I will not praise, that purpose not to sell. Points on me graciously with fair aspect, XXII.

And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,
My glass shall not persuade me, I am old, To show me worthy of thy sweet respect.
So long as youth and thou art of one date;

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, But when in thee Time's furrows I behold,

Till then, not show my head where thou may'st Then look I death my days should expiate.

prove me. For all that beauty that doth cover thee,

XXVII.
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me;

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
How can I then be elder than thou art?

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; O therefore, love, be of thyself so wary,

But then begins a journey in my head, As I not for myself but for thee will;

To work my mind, when body's work's expired: Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary,

For then my thonghts (from far where I abide) As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.

Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;

And keep my drooping eye-lids open wide, Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again.

Looking on darkness which the blind do soe. XXIII.

Save that my soul's imaginary sight As an anperfect actor on the stage,

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Makes black night beauteous, and her old face Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,

heart; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. The perfect ceremony of love's rite,

XXVIII.
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,

How can I then return in happy plight,
O'er-charged with burden of mine own love's might. That am debarr’d the benefit of rest?
O let my books be then my eloquence

When day's oppression is not eased by night, And dumb presagers of my speaking breast: But day by night and night by day oppress’d? Who plead for love, and look for recompence,

And each, though enemies to either's reigu, More than that tongue that more hath more ex- Do in consent shake hands to torture me, press'a.

The one by toil, the other to complain O learn to read what silent love hath writ: How far í toil, still farther off from thee. To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. I tell the day, to please him, thou art briglit, XXIV.

And dost him grace when clouds do blot the Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath steel'd

heaven: Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night; My body is the frame wherein 'uis held,

When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the And perspective it is best paioter's art.

For through the painter must yon see his skill, But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, To find where your true image pictured lies, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,

stronger. That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.

XXIX. Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done; When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me I all alone beweep my out-cast state, Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Yet eyes his cunning want to grace their art, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, They draw but what they see, know not the heart. Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d, XXV.

Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, Let those who are in favour with their stars, With what I most enjoy contented least : of public honour and proud titles boast,

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Haply I think on thee, -and then my state Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. |(Like to the lark at break of day arising

new.

even.

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate; 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth

break, brings,

To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, That then I scorn to change my state with kings. For no man well of such a salve can speak, XXX. .

That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; I sumion up remembrance of things past, Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss : I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief And with old woes new wail my dear tîme's waste. To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love For precious friends lid in death's dateless night,

sheds, And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe, And they are rich, and ransome all ill deeds. And moan the expence of many a vanish'd sight.

XXXV. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

No more be grieved at that which thou hast And heavily from woe to wpe tell o'er

done! The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,

Roses have thorns, and silyer fountains mud: Which I new pay as if not paid before.

Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud, All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

All men make faults, and even I in this,
XXXI.

Authorising thy trespass with compare,
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Which I by lackiog have supposed dead; Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are:
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
And all those friends which I thought buried. (Thy adverse party is thy advocate)
How many a holy and obsequious tear

And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence :
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, Such civil war is in my love and hate,
As interest of the dead, which now appear That I an accessary needs must be
But things removed, that hidden in thee lie! To that sweet thief, which sourly robs from me.
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,

XXXVI. Hong with the trophies of my lovers gone,

Let me confess that we two must be twain, Who all their parts of me to thee did give;

Although our individed loves are one: . That due of many now is thine alone:

So shall those blots that do with me remain, Their images I loved I view in thee,

Without thy help, by me be borne alone. * And thou (all they) hast all the all of me,

In our two loves there is but one respect,
XXXII.

Though in our lives a separable spite,
If thou survive my well-contented day,

Which, though it alter not love's sole effect, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight, cover,

I may not evermore acknowledge thee, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame: These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,

Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Compare them with the bettering of the time; Unless thou take that honour from thy name : And though they be out-stripp'd by every pen, But do not so; I love thee in such sort, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. Exceeded by the height of happier men.

XXXVII.
O then vouchsafe me but this loying thought!
Had my friend's muse grown with this growing

As a decrepit father takes delight

To see his active child do deeds of youth, age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought,

So [, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, To march in ranks of better equipage :

Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth; But since he died, and poets better prove,

For whether beauty, bi.th, or wealth, or wit, Theirs for their style r'll read, his for his love.

Or any of these all, or all, or more,
XXXIII.

Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
Full many a glorious morning have I seen

I make my love engrafted to this store: Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,

So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Kissing with golden face the meadows green,

Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy,

That I in thy abundance am sufficed,

And by a part of all thy glory live,
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride

Look what is best, that best I wish in thee
With ngly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlora world his visage hide,

This wish I have; then ten times happy me! Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:

XXXVIII, E'en so my sun one early morn did shine, How can my muse want subject to invent, With all triumphant splendour on my brow; While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my But out! alack! he was but one hour mine,

The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now; Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun Oh give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
staineth.

Worthy perusal, stand against thy sight;
XXXIV.

For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, Why didst thon promise such a beauteons day, When thou thyself dost give invention light? And make me travel forth without my cloak, Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth To let base clonds o'er-take me in my way, Than those old nine, which rhymers invocate; Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth

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thee me.

all;

Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make If my slight muse do please these curious days,

bright, The paia be mine, but thine shall be the praise. How would thy shadow's form form happy show XXXIX.

To the clear day with thy much clearer light, O how thy worth with manners may I sing, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so ? When thou art all the better part of me?

How would (I say) mive eyes be blessed made What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? By looking on thee in the living day, And what is't but mine own, when I praise thee? Wheu in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Even for this let us divided live,

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay? And our dear love lose name of single one, All days are nights to see, till I see thee, That by this separation I may give

And nights, briglit days, when dreams do show That due to thee, wbich thou deservest alone. O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,

XLIV. Were it pot thy sour leisure guve sweet leave If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Injurious distance should not stop my way : Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth de- For then, despite of space, I would be brought ceive,

From limits far remote, where thou dost stay: And that thou teachest how to make one twain, No matter then, although my foot die stand By praising him here, who doth hence remain. Upon the farthest earth removed from thee, XL.

For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them As soon as think the place where he would be.

But ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought, What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? To leap large lengths of miles, when thou art gone, No love, my love, that thon may'st true love call; But that, so much of earth and water wronght, All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. I must attend Time's leisure with my moan;

Then if for my love thou my love receivest, Receiving nought by elements so slow
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But heavy tcars, badges of either's woe.
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest

XLV.
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.

The other two, slight air and purging fire, I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Are both with thee, wherever I abide; Although thou steal thee all my poverty; The first my thought, the other my desire, And yet love knows, it is a greater grief There present-absent with swift motion slide.

To bear love's wrongs, than hate's known injury. For when these quicker elements are gone Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shews, In tender embassy of love to thee, Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. My life, being inade of four, with two alone, XLI.

Siuks down to death, oppress’d with melancholy; Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, Uutil life's composition be recured When I am sometime absent from thy heart, By those swift messengers return'd from thee, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, Who c'en but now come back again, assured For still temptation follows where thou art.

Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assail'd; I send them back again, and straight grow sad. And when a woman woos, what woman's son

XLVI.
Will sourly leave her till she have prevaila? Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
Ah me! but yet thou might'st, my sweet, for- How to divide the conqnest of thy sight;
bear,

Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight woulil bar, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. Who lead thee in their riot even there,

My heart doth plead, that thou in him dost lie, Where thou art forced to break a two-fold (A closet never pierced with crystal eyes) truth;

But the defendant doth that plea deny,
Her's, by thy beauty tempting her to thee, And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
Thine, by tby beauty being false to me.

To 'cide this title is impannelled
XLII.

A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And by their verdict is determined
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;

The cleareye's moiety, and the dear heart's part: That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. And my heart's right thine inward love of heart: Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:

XLVII. Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, her;

And each doth good turns now unto the other : And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
Both find each other, and I lose both twain, Another time mine

eye
is
my

heart's guest,
And both for my sake lay on me this cross: And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:
But here's the joy; my friend and I are one; So, either by thy picture or my love,
Sweet flattery!- then she loves but me alone. Thyself away art present still with me;
XLIII.

For thou not farther than my thoughts canst When most I wiok, then do mine eyes

best
see,

move,
For all the day they view things unrespected ; And I am still with them, and they with thee;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed, Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.

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