Shall I compare thee?

Not like an aging summer 's day,

Or in few pallid lines should get,

thy alluring beauty waste away.

Or in searing gales of may

how thy frail ardor display?

And how can pages pale with time

do justice of thy magnificence sublime?

I envisage a lake of molten sapphire,

which, sprinkled twinkling stars admire.

And in the cynosure a mystic blue lotus I see,

With that shall I compare thee?