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 his gold complexion dimmed;
And
every fair from fair sometime declines,
By
chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
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.
-- from Shakespeare's Sonnets