Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Thou are more frosty and indifferent.
As snow upon the city sidewalks lay,
Your face a frigid beauty doth present.
Sometimes you coldly glare across the room,
When I attempt the slightest compliment,
And my advances never break the gloom,
Though your sweet face endures no detriment.
No, thy eternal hailstorm shall not fade
Nor cease to pelt me with rejection cold,
But my amour of sterner stuff is made,
My passion will for centuries be bold.
So now, I bid your photograph goodnight
And sleep to dream of our pure love's delight.