Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

By W.S.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest;

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Shall I?

By D.J.B.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

I think not, thou are more tempestual and irate.

Rough winds amidst a vortex describe your way.

The engines that push the storm to rotate,

are your desires thwarted and plans delayed.

Those close to you are boats thrown about

the boiling, roiling waves turn to spray.

Still, I'm awed to see the sight, no doubt.

Despite the danger I'd trade heaven's hot eye

to spy your spiral, though I'm no trader.

And I'll break through the riled storm by

sliding in your eye south of the equator.

From without the satellite shows a silent flower.

From within I brace myself, admiring your structure and power.