Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit . Love is not love Which 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 wandering , 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 not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of . If this be error and upon me proved, I never , nor no man ever loved.
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Let me not accept any obstacle to the marriage of true minds. Love is not love if it changes when the person changes, or bends away when the other leaves. No — it is a fixed seamark that watches storms and is never moved. It is the pole star to every lost ship, whose value can't be measured though its height can. Love is not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks fall under Time's sickle. Love doesn't change with hours and weeks; it lasts to the end of the world. If I'm wrong, then I never wrote, and no one ever loved.