marriage
of true minds
Admit
impediments,
love is not love
Which
alters
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
wand'ring 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 bears it
out even to
the edge of doom:
If this be
error and
upon me proved,
I never
writ, nor
no man ever loved.
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