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 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 ow�st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand�rest 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.

William Shakespeare, in 'Sonnets (18)'

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