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| William Shakespeare |
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| Sonnet XVIII | ||||
| 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 untrimmed. But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow´st; Nor shall death brag thou wandrest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growst. So long as man can breathe and eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |
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