April 20, 2024
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Poem

Poetry: Sonnet 153 By William Shakespeare

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Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep,

A maid of Dian’s this advantage found,

And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep

In a cold valley-fountain of that ground:

Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love,

A dateless lively heat still to endure,

And grew a seeting bath which yet men prove,

Against strange maladies a sovereign cure:

But at my mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired,

The boy for trial needs would touch my breast,

I sick withal the help of bath desired,

And thither hied a sad distempered guest.

     But found no cure, the bath for my help lies,

     Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress’ eyes.

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