- Let me not to the marriage of true minds
- admit impediments. Love is not love
- which alters when it alteration finds,
- or bends with the remover to remove:
- Oh, no! It is an ever-fixèd mark.
- That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
- it is the star to every wandering 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.