Sonnet 18 by W. 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 dimm'd,　　　　 

And every fair from fair sometime declines, 

By chance, or natures changing course untrimm'd: 

 But thy eternal Summer shall not fade, 

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,　　　　 

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 as lives this, and this gives life to thee.