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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 dimmed; 
    And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; 
    But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 
    Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; 
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
    When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: 
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, 
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 
 
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