My love is
strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less,
though less the show appear;
That love is
merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue
doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new,
and then but in the spring
When i was wont to
greet it with my lays,
As philomel in
summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe
in growth of riper days—
Not that the
summer is less pleasant now
Than when her
mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild
music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown
common lose their dear delight.
Therefore like her
i sometime hold my tongue,
Because i would
not dull you with my song.
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thanks