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I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise
.
I love with a passion put to use
in my old grief, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
with my lost saints; I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Shall I Compare Thee, (Sonnet XVIII)
By William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds 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 dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed:
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 men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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