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Shall I compare thee?

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Shall I compare thee to that summer eve,
when two young hearts were led astray
the sweetened scent of loves last breath
upon that fire of hatred cooled.

Shall I compare thee to the memory,
that lingers in the eyes of a queen who's
head does rest upon the leaves
that brought young lovers to their knees,
as traps were set by jealous words
which led their dizzy minds astray.

Or maybe to the candle light which flickered, flickered and was gone,
a man whose quiet ambition lay
and was ignited to a flame which
killed the very heart of love,
warmed by the shells of empty truths.

Or even to the playful glint,
in the eyes of the girl who couldn't stand,
the man who later won her hand
through whispered words left innocence dead but still alive
and foolish friends who did pretend to keep a secret never spoken.

Yes my love, compare thee I will,
to murders foul and maidens fair
to jealous rages, cooled by laughter,
to the fangs of a snake in the breast of a beauty,
to the victim of madness,
to the victim of cruelty.

No my love, replace thee I won't,
with other eyes an other hands,
your weary pen did write the words
which brought the world of love to me.




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