Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day？
Thou are more lovely and more temperate1：
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 complexion2 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 brag3 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.
by William Shakespeare
