Shall I compare thee to a Winter’s day?
Thou art more still and far more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the manor’s windowpanes,
and Winter’s lease hath all too short a date.
But thy eternal Winter shall not fade
so long as in the virgin’s blood you bathe
nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
when in eternal crimson-thirst thy ghost
administers its soul-suck to thy prey.
And yet in aerial din cold Death may boast
his servant to the Netherworlds beguiles.
Innocent, I laid near thee, Twilit Host,
but, O, thy soul within a nadir lie.
By dawn we both drank deep the salt of Fate.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can cry,
so long we shun the light, we canst not die.
|by Mark Hammermeister - here's the full-color version!|