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 father shines,
And sharply is his cold glare chagrinned;
And any fair from fair sometime declines,
No chance for nature’s raging course untrimm’d;
Thus our eternal summer shall he shame,
Our lost possession of that fair hot bond;
Not shall Death drag me blithely in his aim,
The father bid your suitor stud abscond
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives he, and thus so long to thee.
– with major apologies to William Shakespeare