Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare 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 the summer's lease hath all too short a date sometimes 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 untrimmed 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 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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