Sonnet 18
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Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Thou art more hollow and more distressing;
Rough winds do shake your meaning far away
And empty words are long from impressing.
Shall I compare thee to a winters night?
You're darker by far and more pervasive
The chill in the air kills any thought of staying out longer
Rushing me inside to drink something hot and cuddle down
