Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds<br> Admit impediments. Love is not love<br> Which alters when it alteration finds,<br> Or bends with the remover to remove:<br> O no! it is an ever-fixed mark<br> That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br> It is the star to every wandering bark,<br> Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.<br> Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks<br> Within his bending sickle's compass come:<br> Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,<br> But bears it out even to the edge of doom.<br> If this be error and upon me proved,<br> I never writ, nor no man ever loved.