Thou art more lovely and more trmperate: Tough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all to 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 ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |
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