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Let not my love be called idolatry, |
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Nor my belovèd as an idol show, |
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Since all alike my songs and praises be |
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To one, of one, still such, and ever so. |
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Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, |
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Still constant in a wondrous excellence; |
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Therefore my verse to constancy confined, |
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One thing expressing, leaves out difference. |
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Fair, kind, and true is all my argument, |
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Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words; |
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And in this change is my invention spent— |
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Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. |
| | Fair, kind, and true have often lived alone, |
| | Which three, till now, never kept seat in one. |
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