Bonnett 15

Shall I compare thee to a winter's night?
Thou art more spiteful and more freezing.
Rough winds do shake the bulging balls of hay,
And winter's lease hath all too long a date.
Sometime too cold the eye of Faerie shines,
And often is her pale complexion dimmed,
And every fault from fault some time declines,
By chance or logic's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal rind shall not grow stale
Nor lose possession of that glare thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade
When in eternal scrawls to time thou growst.
So long as men can freak or eyes can flee,
So long lives this, and this gives pain to me.