William Shakespeare: Sonnet 116

I hadn't really planned on posting poetry here, but then again, why not? The topic of this blog is literature, and although I'm not really a poetry kind of gal, no one can say that poetry isn't literature too. :-) This poem has been running through my mind for several days now. Maybe I can get it out by posting it here ... ? :-)

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.