| 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 men can breathe or eyes can see
|
| So long lives this, and this gives life to thee
|
| 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 men can breathe or eyes can see
|
| So long lives this, and this gives life to thee |