Shall he compare you to a summer's day? Or thou you are more lovely and more temperate than you. Rough winds that shake the trees of May, and summer's all to short. Sometimes even to hot, but not as hot as you my darling. But the summer pasts and you do not. Neither do you lose your charm or love. You will not die, and it is why he write this for you when you grow I love to show. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to him.