Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds read more

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.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So ling lives this, and this gives life to thee.

These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, read more

These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of read more

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of gladness and so full of pain!
Forever and forever shalt thou be
To some the gravestone of a dead delight,
To some the landmark of a new domain.

In lang, lang days o' simmer,
When the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses ae weep drap o' read more

In lang, lang days o' simmer,
When the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses ae weep drap o' rain
To Nature parched and dry,
The genial night, wi' balmy breath,
Gars verdue, spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass
Keps its ain drap o' dew.

I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not read more

I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.

The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
read more

The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy.

Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer read more

Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?

The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.

The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.

O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
read more

O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
O for a vale that at midday the dew cumbers!
O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!