A poem about love |
Shall I compare thee to all the seasons? To the flare of autumn, to kiss of spring I will give thee the three great, sole reasons Why shan’t I compare thee to anything Thine heart is too warm to winter’s compare Thy skin is pale unlike summer’s skin, bright Thine hair is black unlike the autumn flare Thine imperial air much for spring’s light Thy peace and grace too light for winter’s storm Though thou art faint and dark, thou art most warm Thou art too cool for summer’s blazing clime Too hot for cold winter’s dun atmosphere Thine locks, most fair never wither in time Like bright autumn when winter does appear Thy voice whene’er you speak to me is soft Unlike most sharp the winds by winter’s sway Unlike the hum of heat o’er skies aloft Within melting clime of each summer day Thy bright and fair beauty, bright glimmering Ne’er wilts away like do the tides of spring Thou art too heavy in mind and in wit To be compared to the soft breeze in spring And what is good in bright autumn when it Lies beneath winter’s cold breath, withering And of what good is there to see in gray Of snows and ice that dance like sprites about And of what good is there to see or say Of all seasons who come and pass in, out Thou art all in all for truest respect In thine own way, in truest sense, perfec |