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: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is gold complexion dimm'd, And every fair from fair sometimes 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 death shall 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. William Shakespeare