Thursday, October 2, 2008

Sonnet cxvi

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 ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wondering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, through rosy lips and cheeks
Within the bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not within his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, not no man ever loved.

William Shakespeare 

1 comment:

Thank you for your thoughts...