Sonnet 18

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 declines,
By chance, or nature's 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 growest;
     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.