True Love !

 

 

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.

 

-- William Shakespeare

Done