| | Sonnet 31 |
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Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts |
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Which I, by lacking, have supposèd dead; |
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And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts, |
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And all those friends which I thought burièd. |
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How many a holy and obsequious tear |
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Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye |
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As interest of the dead, which now appear |
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But things removed that hidden in thee lie. |
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Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, |
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Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, |
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Who all their parts of me to thee did give; |
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That due of many now is thine alone. |
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Their images I loved I view in thee, |
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And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. |
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| Sonnet 31 |
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You have the love of everyone who used to love me, people who I supposed were dead because I didn't have their love anymore. Love reigns in your heart—both everything belonging to love and all those friends who I thought were dead and buried. How many tears of devoted love have I shed at funerals, in payment to the dead, when now it appears they had only gone to hide in your heart. You're like a grave where dead lovers come alive again, decorated with mementos of those lost loves who gave you all the love I owed to each of them. All the love I owed to many is now yours alone. I see these lovers in you, and you, who contain everyone I have ever loved or was loved by, have all of me. |
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