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