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.