_Sonnet 116_

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: 

O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wand'ring 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. 

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116