Ā Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare. Shall I compare thee to a summerās day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate; Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summerās lease hath all too short a date; Ā Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmād; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or natureās changing course untrimmād; Ā But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: Ā So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


















