Let me not to the marriage
of true minds
Admit impediment;love is
not love
Which alters when alteration
finds,
Or bends with the remover
to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed
mark
That looks on tempests and
is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering
bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although
his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though
rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's
compass come;
Love alters not with his
brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to
edge of doom.
If this
be error and upon me proved,
I never writ,
nor no man ever loved.
My Perception of Poetry My Love Poems My Favorite Poets
