Poems

CXVI

William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love 

Which alters when it alterations 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 start 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 loved. 

You gotta love poetry. ;) 

Abi