Darling Buds Of May Quotes

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And too often is his gold complexion dimm'd: And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance or natures changing course untrimm'd; By thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? E'en in Australia art thou still more hot Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May (Since that's your winter it don't mean a lot) Sometimes too bright the eye of heaven shines And bushfires start through half of New South Wales Just so, when I do see thy bosom's lines A fire consumes me and my breathing fails But thine eternal summer shall not fade This is in no way due to global warming; Nay, from thy breasts shall verses fair be made So damn compulsive they are habit-forming So long as men can read and eyes can see So long lives this, thou 34DD (Based on an idea by William Shakespeare. I'm sure he'd agree that I've improved it)

In our vile English climate, rough winds shake not only the darling buds of May, but of June, July, August and September as well.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, / And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath too short a date.

Riverstone: Viscount of tine stony grave Alive and well attended to; Deliverance beyond this day: I bid thee well along and thru. Despite the case at hand to see Before my eyes against me say: To rid me of my misery, A desperate call to riverine stay. The cult which led me to that place- A devil hooked on just romance-; My sister bled with solemn grace: A flower sti I I and yet to dance. Whatever for we shan't oblige For mystic chanting let alone The daemons and their just demise The daylight break to Riverstone. And well adhered to firm belief The dudgeon of a higher man Amidst my song of pear and leaf To take thee to a brighter land. A season of the greater arts A life of wealth, and will to bring The pristine health of desperate hearts- The kindness of a Druid king- And let alone the blessed face My own two eyes remember this Alone, beyond the steady race, To dance about the cold abyss. A presence well enchanted in The ways of light yet to demand My sister in the hands of sin A daughter of the ocean-brand. To sea she runs with ample stride The wave alone to render sti I I To peer along her way with pride My darling heart she kindly fills. And like the darling buds of May She dances from around and to Deliverance beyond this day: I bid thee well along and thru

Beautiful evening, ain’t it?’ Pop said. Once again, caught in his own web of enchantment, he turned to stare at an evening distilled now into even deeper gold by the lower angle of light falling across still seas of buttercups and long-curled milky waves of may.

Sonnet. What the hell kinda name is Sonnet?” “My mom was into Shakespeare when she had me—a May birthday. I’m named after Sonnet number 18. Do you know it?” “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,’” Jezebel quoted, her voice taking on the cadence and tone of the syncopated sound that had made her famous. “‘Thou are more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath too short a date. Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines...