| 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 |