Poetry

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.

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

The end of every love is a separation.
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