Sonnet 116

William Shakespeare

 	   let me not to the marriage of true minds
 	   Admit impediments; love is not love
 	   Which alters when it alteration finds,
 	   Or bends with the remover to remove:
 	   O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark
 	   That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
 	   It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
 	   Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
 	   Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
 	   Within his bending sickle's compass come;
 	   Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
 	   But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
 	   If this be error and upon me proved,
 	   I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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