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For how thy memory has lingered on–In spite of cruelest winter’s drear and howl–By inner mirror seen; I’ve dwelled upon,I must confess, my treachery most foul.Did Shakespeare pen a series of passionate sonnets, unknown to modern scholarship, ardently praising a mysterious dark-haired beauty? This tantalizing question is raised in a letter to literature professor Rose Asher. But the letter...
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