Sonnet #124
If my dear luv were bt d child of state,
It might 4 4tunez bastard b unfathrd,
As subject 2 timez luv / 2 timez hate,
Weeds among weeds, / flowers wiv flowers gathrd.
No it was builded far frm accident,
It suffers nt in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under d blow of thralled discontent,
wrto th' inviting time r fashion calls:
It fears nt policy th@ heretic,
Which works on leases of short-numbered hours,
bt all alone st&s hugely politic,
th@ it nor grows wiv heat, nor drowns wiv showers.
2 this I witness call d fools of time,
Which die 4 goodness, who hv lived 4 crime.
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