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:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
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 long lives this, and this gives life to
"You're hot as hell, I meet
"Mere love poetry, tortured man? A hot meal!"
Now, did she laugh at boring rhyme of sad dusk?
No! She's ashamed to tell a hurt master. A load.
Hey, is she even a footnote to his theme, "O me!" ?
Plain sex life didn't do him good. SM? C'mon!
"If a sonnet's life, my dear, I'd favor mere crime!"
Recurring themes occur: angst and "I, Macho Bunny".
Men tell a "truthful" story? Mad banshee!
Life's too short to waste on his poor-ass 'fun':
A snarl - and she is through with the lone, sad Bard.
Gone this little woman, i.e. she won't return.
A snob can create anger. She lonesome? Yes;
Even so, she's left the idiot: it lags, his loving.