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While love in you did live, I only lived in you;
While you for me did burn, for you alone I burned;
While you did sigh for me, for you I sighed and mourned;
Till you proved false to me, to you I was most true.
But since love died in you, in you I live no more,
Your heart a servant new, mine a new saint enjoyeth:
My sight offends your eyes, mine eyes your sight annoyeth:
Since you held me in scorn, by you I set no store.
Yet if dead love [revive], if your late flames return,
If you lament your change, and count me your sole treasure,
My love more fresh shall spring, my flame more bright shall burn;
I'll love none else but you, and love you without measure:
If not, untrue, farewell: in sand I'll sow no grain,
Nor plant my love, but where love yields me love again.
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