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's lease hath
all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye
of heaven shines
And often is his gold
complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair
sometime declines,
By chance or nature's
changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer
shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of
that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou
wander'st 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.