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Sonnet 18 by Shakespeare Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day①? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease② hath all too short a date③. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven④ shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair⑤ sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course⑥, untrimmed⑦; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st⑧, Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade⑨, When in enteral lines to time thou grow'st⑩. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |