Shall I compare thee to a summer ̕s day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimm̕d;And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature ̕s changing course untrimm̕d; But thy eternal