Poetry °æ (¾«»ªÇø)

·¢ÐÅÈË: Esteelauder (ËêÔ·ɻ¨), ÐÅÇø: Poem_ci
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                Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day

                                        William Shakespeare

                
        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:

        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 thade

        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.

--
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