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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
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-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring 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.
Don't let me acknowledge any barriers to the union of true minds. Love isn't real love if it changes when it sees changes in the other person, Or if it bends away when the other person changes. Oh no, it's a permanent mark That stays steady even in storms; It's like a guiding star to every lost ship, Whose true value is unknown, even though its height can be measured. Love isn't controlled by time, even though rosy lips and cheeks Are within time's reach. Love doesn't change with time's short hours and weeks, But lasts until the end of time. If I'm wrong about this and it's proven, Then I've never written no man has ever loved.