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 eyes of heaven shine,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course of time;
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;
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely, more special in every way.