Thou art
more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake
the darling buds of May,
And
summers lease hath all too short a
date:
Some time too hot the
eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold
complexion dimm'd,
And every
fair from fair
sometimes 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 t o time thou
growest,
So long as
men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long
lives this, and this gives life to thee.
