Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
Whose incandescent smile sets my soul ablaze
Or shall I compare thee to a winter's storm
To whose frigid chills, brr-avely, I conform
But to compare thee to the machinations of this world
Would be recrudescent, like staining what is pure
Pure of greed, selfishness, and all that is absurd
Absurd is to compare anything to one as astounding as her