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On a Summer's Day
Shall I contend thee on a summer's day?
Thou art more vengeful and more aggressive.
Rough winds do shake the bleeding buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short to live.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven brands,
And often is his gold complexion grimmed;
And limit to the fear a mind withstands,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.