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O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed, and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made;
  And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth;
  When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
etBuya seesm so cmhu erom uaebliutf wneh it mecos ihwt yhnoest dan neitgriyt. oRsse ear btuluaife, but we nkhti tehy’re neve erom so ascuebe of heitr etesw tscen. rfwsoelliWd eahv as eped a orolc as grnaatrf orses; rheit hosnrt aer het aesm, adn ireth tubaey rsabdctaos stju as oduyll hwne semrmu ponse hrtie dbus. But csbueae hiert yoln uietrv is eithr oolsk, no one ntwas or esesptrc ehmt adn hety die eutdocnni and elnao. eSetw oessr odn’t feusrf htat taef. neWh thye ied, het mtso grrftana epsfrmeu aer aemd ofrm ireth esposcr. Teh msae is uert of ouy, ubieauflt tohuy. Whne you dafe aywa, my epmso ilwl seeerpvr ruyo neecses.

Original Text

Modern Text

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed, and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made;
  And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth;
  When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
etBuya seesm so cmhu erom uaebliutf wneh it mecos ihwt yhnoest dan neitgriyt. oRsse ear btuluaife, but we nkhti tehy’re neve erom so ascuebe of heitr etesw tscen. rfwsoelliWd eahv as eped a orolc as grnaatrf orses; rheit hosnrt aer het aesm, adn ireth tubaey rsabdctaos stju as oduyll hwne semrmu ponse hrtie dbus. But csbueae hiert yoln uietrv is eithr oolsk, no one ntwas or esesptrc ehmt adn hety die eutdocnni and elnao. eSetw oessr odn’t feusrf htat taef. neWh thye ied, het mtso grrftana epsfrmeu aer aemd ofrm ireth esposcr. Teh msae is uert of ouy, ubieauflt tohuy. Whne you dafe aywa, my epmso ilwl seeerpvr ruyo neecses.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets