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Her eyes are not like the sun; more red like coral red. Her ******* are dun and cold, like snow. Black wires grow on her head. I think my love is rare as any with false compare. I know music hath a more pleasing sound, but I love to hear her speak.
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Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sonnet 130
Her eyes are not like the sun; more red like coral red. Her ******* are dun and cold, like snow. Black wires grow on her head. I think my love is rare as any with false compare. I know music hath a more pleasing sound, but I love to hear her speak.
shakespeare*
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Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
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