Summer’s day
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
For shame! Though hot as fire, ‘twere utter chill.
Thine eyes the sun; thy nether, hotter still.
Apollo and his throng may slink away
While cool Diana bathes the velvet lawn
Whereon we lie, our special naked place
And finger-touch and kisses gently trace
The soft moon-shadows on thy breasts now drawn.
My tongue, from words all dried, will moisten yet
And join with thine in wand’ring dance sublime
And “now” is all the start and end of time;
For now thy heat mine own heat doth beget.
Away, wit! Here I seek no more than this:
Between thy legs, my body give thee bliss.