Shall I compare thee to a summer’s rose? br Thou art more exquisite and more restrain: br Rough winds do shake the long and lank flowers, br And summer’s rose hath all too short a life: br Sometimes too stunning to touch, br And often its complexion and tone are bleach; br And fair from fair its grace has clouded, br By chance or nature's changing course untainted; br But thy eternal appeal shall not droop br Nor lose thy possession on thy allure thou owest; br Nor death shall crow thou drift in his awning, br When in eternal stanzas thou growest: br So long as people can breath or eyes can see, br So long this and this gives life to thee.