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Freeform Sonnet?
Death from you will be
My very sweetest end
Men are sung of who
Die gloriously
In battles far off
They will seem as ants
To anyone with heart
When they hear of me
And my sweetest end
Dazzle my senses
Destroy my reason
I'll know but one thing
You above all, are now all that I want
To have and to hold, but my mind to haunt
