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Sonnet 103

         ,          ,     ,        ,             ,
      Alack | what pov|erty | my Muse | brings^forth,
            ,        ,        ,          ,          ,
      That ha|ving such | a scope | to show | her pride,
           ,     ,          ,        ,           ,
      The ar|gument | all bare | is of | more* worth
             ,         ,        ,        ,         ,
      Than when | it hath | my ad|ded praise | beside.
           ,         ,       ,        ,          ,
      Oh blame | me not | if I | no more | can write,
        ,              ,           ,         ,         ,
      Look in | your glass | and there | appears | a face
           ,       ,         ,        ,         ,
      That o|ver-goes | my blunt | inven|tion quite,
       ,             ,          ,      ,        ,
      Dulling | my lines,| and do|ing me | disgrace.
        ,            ,        ,      ,             ,
      Were it | not sin|ful then | striving | to mend,
          ,         ,         ,        ,          ,
      To mar | the sub|ject that | before | was well,
           ,      ,        ,        ,        ,
      For to | no o|ther pass | my ver|ses tend,
            ,         ,       ,           ,          ,
      Than of | your gra|ces and | your gifts | to tell.
       .    T     T    T          ,        ,          ,
      And more, much more | than in | my verse | can sit,
            ,      T     T    T        2      ,        ,
      Your own | glass shows you,| when^you look | in it.

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