Sonnet I
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From fairest creatures we desire increase, | 1
That thereby beauty's rose might never die, | 2
But as the riper should by time decease, | 3
His tender heir might bear his memory: | 4
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, | 5
Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel, | 6
Making a famine where abundance lies, | 7
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. | 8
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament | 9
And only herald to the gaudy spring, | 10
Within thine own bud buriest thy content | 11
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. | 12
Pity the world, or else this glutton be, | 13
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. | 14
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