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 untrimm'd; 
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 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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