William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? a Thou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, a And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: b Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines c And often is his gold complexion dimmed, d And every fair from fair sometimes declines, c By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed; d But thy eternal summer shall not fade, e Nor lose poss