CXVI.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Adnit impediments.Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends wiyh the remover to remove:
O no;it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempest,and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worths unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Times 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 prov'd
I never writ,nor no man ever lov'd
Could Shakespeare have been so wrong,I hope not Sheeba2