id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
shakespeare-sonnets_17		shakespeare-sonnets_17			.txt	text/plain	133	12	105	XVII. Who will believe my verse in time to come, Who will believe my verse in time to come, If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say' This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.' So should my papers, yellow'd with their age, Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights beterm'd a poet 's rage And stretched metre of an antique song: But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice,--in it, and in my rhyme.	./cache/shakespeare-sonnets_17.txt	./txt/shakespeare-sonnets_17.txt