Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough wind 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 sometimes 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 man can breathe,
or eyes can see,
So long lives this,
and this give life to thee.

(Shakespeare)