Sonnet 116
by William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
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 wandering 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 proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I don't believe in love, but I have to admit, I do love the way Shakespeare writes about it.
1 comment:
Always beautiful, this Shakespeare sonnet!
I happen to believe in true love. ;-)
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