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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare: Poems.  1914.

Sonnet LII.

“So am I as the rich, whose blessed key”


SO am I as the rich, whose blessed key 
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, 
The which he will not every hour survey, 
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. 
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,         5
Since, seldom coming, in that long year set, 
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, 
Or captain jewels in the carconet. 
So is the time that keeps you as my chest, 
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,  10
To make some special instant special blest 
By new unfolding his imprison’d pride. 
  Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, 
  Being had, to triumph; being lack’d, to hope. 


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