EUCALYPTUS

Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not love，Which alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove:Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,That looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand'ring bark,Whose worth's un-known, although his heighth be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though r-osy 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 write, nor no man ever loved.