Full fathom five thy father lies;/ Of his bones are coral made;/ Those are pearls that were his eyes:/ Nothing of him that doth fade/ But doth suffer a sea-change/ Into something rich and strange.
What year has come
So bewildered as these
Which do symmetry
Such injustice?
Now will the sky fold
And turn itself
And make strange eyes
Of the stars’ dark sides,
And all for love?
Such twistings never tortured
Any other straight line made;
Yet See I now
Heaven’s consummate work
And chaos called
God’s careful plan;
This man who fits me
Like a glove,
Goes not before
Nor follows;
The years will have me used to him
And render old things
Hollow
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