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Untitled (Sonnet) by MacFrantic
‘Tis thee of whom they speak, this much is true When sayest they what I dare not to say That Autumn’s brilliance dulls, if not for you And if thou late awake, morn shall delay Hear now all the flatt’ry thou hast consumed That satisfies the o’erflowed confidence Should Vanity be with your breath entombed Consider now; fools wise still have no sense To love and be loved are but separate things Such paths I hope shall be forever crossed For some, a joy accepting life may bring But in shadow some know their path is lost Let golden voices tell thee golden curses And truths be black, I’ll dare to tell in verses Please give me tips because this is for a contest.

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Anonymous68.33.68.1855October 20, 2006 9:00 PM PDT
xxx68.164.242.1510May 22, 2005 1:23 PM PDT
edpeterson68.79.203.2205February 27, 2005 9:28 AM PST
zodiac212.118.11.1210February 25, 2005 11:00 PM PST
bamf9094.254.217.187February 25, 2005 10:12 PM PST
Dovina12.72.5.1628February 25, 2005 6:59 AM PST



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