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  <!ATTLIST STANZA NUMBER ID #IMPLIED>
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<POEM TYPE="SONNET">
  <POET>William Shakespeare</POET>
  <TITLE>Sonnet 21</TITLE>
  <STANZA NUMBER="st1">
    <VERSE>So is it not with me as with that Muse</VERSE>
    <VERSE>Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,</VERSE>
    <VERSE>Who heaven itself for ornament doth use</VERSE>
    <VERSE>And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;</VERSE>
  </STANZA>
  <STANZA NUMBER="st2">
    <VERSE>Making a couplement of proud compare</VERSE>
    <VERSE>With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich
           gems,</VERSE>
    <VERSE>With April's first-born flowers, and all things
           rare</VERSE>
    <VERSE>That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.</VERSE>
  </STANZA>
  <STANZA NUMBER="st3">
    <VERSE>O, let me, true in love, but truly write,</VERSE>
    <VERSE>And then believe me, my love is as fair</VERSE>
    <VERSE>As any mother's child, though not so bright</VERSE>
    <VERSE>As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air.</VERSE>
  </STANZA>
  <REFRAIN>
    <VERSE>Let them say more that like of hearsay well,</VERSE>
    <VERSE>I will not praise that purpose not to sell.</VERSE>
  </REFRAIN>
</POEM>
