Shall I compare thee to a cup of tea?
Thou art less lovely and less temperate.
Your voice winds do shake my tranquillity,
And fair attentions are too hard to get.
Sometimes too hot your critical glare shines,
And often is your vicious tongue untrimmed;
And every sip of love in time declines,
With swift return to lover's lounge much dimmed.
Your sharp heat shall never cool to comfort,
And all sugar in the world won't sweeten,
The bitter beating of your blackened heart;
Nor shall the greed of your soul be beaten.
As long as men can drink a cup of tea,
So long lives my hate and disgust for thee.