| 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 fair sometime 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.
 
  
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