Love is not love
which alters when it alteration finds,
or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh 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.

Post je objavljen 25.02.2008. u 23:00 sati.