let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not Love

Whoch alters when it alteratipn finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken.

It is the star to every wandering 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 bear it out even to the edge of doom

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.