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All English Sonnets

WOOING

The world is vile by nature, it spreads
The vilest of the rumors. I would rather
Ignore it. Dearest let’s join our heads
And let it itself hurt and ruin and bother.

For if we unnecessarily now worry,
Indulge in recriminations, fruitless talk,
The night will pass away in a tearing hurry.
The fate would laugh derisively and mock.

Our foolishness. the world can never taint,
The trueness of true love by its rumors.
So let it in the vilest coolers paint,
But see it doesn’t hurt but only humors.

And thus amused, come dearest, hold me tight,
And let the world not mar this lovely night.

GREETING

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