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XVIII.
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 owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou
wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time
thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can
see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
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