SONNET 116
William Shakespeare
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
wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown,
although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool,
though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending
sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his
brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to
the edge of doom.
If this be error and
upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man
ever lov'd.
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