Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
I do believe her though I know she lies,

Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
But when she saw my woeful state,
How like Eves apple doth thy beauty grow,
Therefore my verse to constancy confined,

That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Loves fire heats water, water cools not love.
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
With Times injurious hand crushed and oerworn;

Nay, if you read this line, remember not
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;

Source: http://www.languageisavirus.com/sonnet-generator.html

Lady EllaMaxwell