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Sonnet XXXI
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
1
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
2
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,
3
And all those friends which I thought buried.
4
How many a holy and obsequious tear
5
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye
6
As interest of the dead, which now appear
7
But things removed that hidden in thee lie!
8
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
9
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
10
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
11
That due of many now is thine alone:
12
Their images I loved I view in thee,
13
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
14