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Sonnet XXVI
The world is woven all of dream and
And but one sureness in our truth may lie--That when we hold to aught our thinking's
We know it not by knowing it thereby
For but one side of things the mirror knows,
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The world is woven all of dream and
And but one sureness in our truth may lie--That when we hold to aught our thinking's
We know it not by knowing it thereby
For but one side of things the mirror knows,
Weet is the Rose, but growes vpon a brere;
Sweet is the Iunipere, but sharpe his bough;sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere;sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough
Sweet is the Cypresse, but his rynd is tough,sweet is the nu...