To his love
By William Shakespeare, (1564-1616)
SHALL I compare thee to a summerís day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate;
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summerís lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmíd:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or natureís changing course, untrimmíd.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Click to return to our Poets' corner