A Sonnet By Wiliam Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to 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 dimme'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy enternal shall not fade,
Nor lose possesion of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in enternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see;
So long will lives this, and this gives life to thee.