| NOT from the stars do I my judgment pluck | |
| And yet methinks I have astronomy, | |
| But not to tell of good or evil luck, | |
| Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality; | |
| Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, |
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| Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind, | |
| Or say with princes if it shall go well, | |
| By oft predict that I in heaven find: | |
| But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, | |
| And, constant stars, in them I read such art | |
| As ‘Truth and beauty shall together thrive, | |
| If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;’ | |
| Or else of thee this I prognosticate: | |
| ‘Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.’ |
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