Food for the soul

Wednesday, May 16, 2007 1:57 AM

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 evry wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although its 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.

Sonnet 116
William Shakespeare

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