dinsdag 18 mei 2010

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 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.

- William Shakespeare

Geen opmerkingen:

Een reactie plaatsen

Voel je vrij een berichtje achter te laten!