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All English Sonnets


I was banished from your winding lanes
By want and dire penury. Thus exiled,
I came to earn my living to the plains,
Dejected and defeated and reviled.

I made my peace with fate. At its shrine,
I humbled myself, rages reconciled.
And all exotic rages which were mine,
Were buried and forgotten. Like a child

I thought that I shall never feel the need,
To think of my rejections, neatly piled
In memories; but now the dormant seed
Of memories has sprouted branches wild,

And roots of rages are so deeply driven,
That nothing is forgotten or forgiven.

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