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Sonnet 116 - Edith Evans
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 wandering 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
