Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;

    Then to that twenty, add a hundred more;

A thousand to that hundred; so kiss on

To make that thousand up to a million.

    Treble that million, and when that is done,

Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.

If love were what the rose is,

And I were like the leaf,

Our lives would grow together,

In sad or singing weather,

Blown fields or flowerful closes,

Green pleasure or grey grief;

If love were what the rose is,

And I were like the leaf.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temporate;

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 dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:

But thy enternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest.

.    .