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                        SONNET  CXXII

        Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
        Full character'd with lasting memory,
        Which shall above that idle rank remain,
        Beyond all date, even to eternity:
        Or at the least so long as brain and heart
        Have faculty by nature to subsist;
        Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part
        Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.
        That poor retention could not so much hold,
        Nor need I tallies, thy dear love to score;
        Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
        To trust those tables that receive thee more:
                To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
                Were to import forgetfulness in me.

        Another Random Sonnet

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