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~ William Shakespeare (1564-1616)



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 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 man can breath, or eyes can see,



So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.