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 ⊙ 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.
--William Shakespeare
--William Shakespeare