Ruined Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a spring slaughter?
Thou art more merry and full of laughter
Rough shakes of axes turn us marauders
And I’ll turn onto you not soon after.
Sometime too hellish the eye of the sun,
Often is his sallow complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime is done,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
Whilst thy eternal hunger shall not fade
Nor thee lose possession of thy huge girth,
Thou shalt with death colour every rosy shade,
When in eternal gore thou wander’st the earth.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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