|
|
|
Sonnet XVIII |
|
|
|
|
|
William Shakespeare |
|
|
|
|
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 dimmed; |
|
|
And every fair from fair sometime declines, |
|
|
By chance
or nature's changing course untrimmed: |
|
But thy eternal summer shall not fade, |
|
|
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, |
|
|
Nor shall
Death brag thou wand'rest 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. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|