I will compare you to a springtime day.
You’re much more bubbly in your bouncing gate:
Thick raininess can bow the buds of May,
And young June’s heat blithe limbs debilitate:
Somtime too slow the lazy winds do blow,
And often is the ground, therefore, still mud,
Which makes of running sluggish half-heart go
And stops the feet, and likewise cools the blood:
But your emphatic springtime does not fail,
Nor cease from rising like a prancing wave;
Your white-cap eyes do all the bright world hail
While shores Atlantis wait their goddess brave.
So long as future lives, and mem’ry’s me,
So long lives you, who in yourself are free!