قصيدة لشكسبير يتحدث عن محبوبته

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 dat
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimmed
And every fair from fair sometimes declines
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest 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