~My Darling,~
...
Shall I, as in the poem,
compare thee to a summer's day?
I think not, for it is not enough.
...
Instead,
I shall compare thee to all my 
favourite, dearest things.
...
But, lo! Even that thing,
it cannot be done,
for thou art my favourite thing!
...
The sun, in all it's bright heat
cannot outshine the light 
of your sweet love.
...
The stars, in their mute glory
cannot come near the joy
of the gentle peace you bestow.
...
The sky, in all its breadth
cannot compare to the width
of the smile you give me.
...
The fancy even in flowers
does not come near the fantasy
your whisper births in my mind.
...
Nor the serenity even of a cat
can match the contentment
of your influence on my heart.
...
Nay! None of these compare
to the gentle, loving glory
of you.