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