Poetry & Shayari

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.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.