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XVIII



Shall I compare thee to a summer\'s day?

Thou 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 often 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 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.

 	--William Shakespeare

LXII



Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye

And all my soul, and all my every part;

And for this sin there is no remedy,

It is so grounded inward in my heart.

Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,

No shape so true, no truth of such account;

And for myself mine own worth do define,

As I all other in all worths surmount.

But when my glass shows me myself indeed

Beated and chopp\'d with tanned antiquity,

Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;

Self so self-loving were iniquity.

  \'Tis thee,--myself,--that for myself I praise,

  Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

 	--William Shakespeare