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All English Sonnets

My muse, with thoughts and feelings over cloyed,
And blessed with abundant wordy raiment,
And piercing like a cadence unalloyed,
Refuses to be put in neat arrangement.

Indulges in its wayward escapades,
And like a river merrily cascades,
Emerging in great misty water falls,
Enchanting with its loud and hissing trolls,

Or like perennial lakes calm and quiet,
The murmurs send the whispers it produces.
Enthralling every tissue with delight,
Which such like music in the psyche induces.

At peripheries of my aurora bustles,
And with perpetual motion ever rustles.

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