Poezja

Shall I compare her to Rose and Lilly?
 Nay, She is far purer and more fair,
 Ye who call this intricate love silly
 Know I about ye envious not care.
 
She is fairer then sun, whiter then moon,
 Dark as night be those eies that this deny!
 What will remain of me but ashes soon
 As when I look into her blazing eye..
 
His indifference is thy woe, mine is thine,
 But this will inhibit my heart no more;
 I know neither no "either", nor no "or",
Thou hast to be at last and at best mine!