Shakespeare Sonnet 18

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 owest; 
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
   When in eternal lines to time thou growest; 
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, 
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.