Sonnet 18

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 sometimes 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.