u art 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 oft’ is his gold complexion dimm'd;And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:But thy eternal Summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou owest;Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou growest:So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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