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Sonnet 18 |
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? |
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Thou art more lovely and more temperate: |
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, |
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And summer's lease hath all too short a date, |
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Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, |
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And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; |
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And every fair from fair sometime declines, |
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By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; |
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade |
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Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; |
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Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, |
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When in eternal lines to time thou growest: |
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So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, |
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So long lives this and this gives life to thee. |
