Sonnet #31

Thy bosom is endeared wiv all hearts,
Which I by lacking hv supposed dead,
& thr reigns luv & all luvz loving parts,
& all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy & obsequious tear
Hath dear religious luv stol'n frm mine eye,
As interest of d dead, which now appear,
bt things removed th@ hidden in thee lie.
Thou art d grave wr buried luv doth live,
Hung wiv d trophies of my luvrs gone,
Who all thr parts of me 2 thee did give,
th@ due of many, now is thine alone.
thr images I luvd, I view in thee,
& thou (all they) hast all d all of me.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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