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: 4Sometime 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; 8But 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; 12So long as man can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

1–14 Cf. n.8 untrimm'd: deprived of adornment10 ow'st: ownest