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An eulogue never told

A mighty heart with vastly a word to say.
A tossed mind sky high over a star so bright,
So luminous that replicates the ones in her sparkling dark eyes,
I beseech you, my lady, else findeth contour upon-where may fix your gazeth,
That this night with the wooing nightingales,
I might to your wonderments find an eulogy,
For what of beauty shall i say?
If not your smiling face in the first line of my literature.
Fore this day, Shakespeare to all that's comely hath said.
But an imagine homely as yours,
To my hall of fame shall bear.
For you are the divine beauty of all time.

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