
Shall I compare thee to a
summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and
more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the
darling buds of May,
And summer'e lease hath all
too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye
of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion
dimmed;
And every fair from fair
sometimes declines,
By chance or nature's changing
course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall
not fade,
Nor lose possesion of that
fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou
wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to
time thou grow'st.
So long
as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long
lives this, and this gives life to thee.