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Michael Drayton - Sonnet LVII: You Best Discern`dMichael Drayton - Sonnet LVII: You Best Discern`d
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You best discern`d of my mind`s inward eyes, And yet your graces outwardly divine, Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies, Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine; You, in whom Nature chose herself to view When she her own perfection would admire, Bestowing all her excellence on you, At whose pure eyes Love lights his hallow`d fire; E`en as a man that in some trance hath seen More than his won`ring utt`rance can unfold, That, rapt in spirit, in better worlds hath been, So must your praise distractedly be told, Most of all short when I would show you most, In your perfections so much am I lost.
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