Shall I compare thee to a Summer's
day?
Thou are 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 untrimm'd:
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.