11,112,006,825,558,016 Sonnets(after Queneau)Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, But that thou none lovest is most evident; And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, By unions married, do offend thine ear, Profitless usurer, why dost thou use Attending on his golden pilgrimage; Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, Which husbandry in honour might uphold Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
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