Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
All damp, I tease you. Shame’s tremor
hums ahead. I act a role, so play me
as you create hell’s metaphor.
I am a sad muse, teach me hope.
Come, I’m all yours, Master
My spasms harm as I rot.
Still, you are there
to hear my praise.
I compare thee
to a red rose,