THY PALLID LOVELINESS
Shall I compare thee to a winter's night?
Thou art more lovely in thy pallid chill.
Rough winds shake bare limbs, but thine hold tight,
Ever rigid, rigorous, and still.
Encircled in a whisp of winter cloud
That with the gray dawn sends the falling snows,
Blankets the earth with its white morning shroud:
Never to thaw thy fast frigidity.
And rigor shall not lose the mortal hold
That binds thee in frozen rigidity.
And with thy pallid loveliness enmesh.