William
Shakespeare
Sonnet 116
Let me
not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an even-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering barke,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Times fool, though rosie lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickles compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be errror and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
by
William Shakespeare
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