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