Sonnet XVIII: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

 By 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 dimm'd;         
And every fair from fair sometime 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 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.