Author: William Shakespeare
Publication: 1609
Shall I compare thee to a Summers day?
Thou art more louely and more temperate:
Rough windes do fhake the darling buds of Maie,
And sommers leafe hath all too fhorte a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heauen fhines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd,
And euery faire from faire fome-time declines,
By chance,or natures changing courfe, vntrim'd:
But thy eternall Sommer fhall not fade,
Nor loofe poffeffion of that faire thou ow’ft,
Nor fhall death brag thou wandr’ft in his fhade
When in eternall lines to time thou grow’ft,
So long as men can breath or eyes can fee,
So long liues this,and this giues life to thee,