What shall i compare to thee?
Thou art fairest,
all hearts faint at decree
of thy name and breast.
Thou beam the top of happy hours
with smile worthy of regalia,
scent of rosy flowers
that linger in the farthest of Ithaca.
In thy eyes & words, thou love
but thy stare & words beguile
for men's happy do thy love remove
aching misery from every angle
Beware her ambitions lay of harsh
For thy love lead the idles of march!