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.,

Sonnet 18

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