Shall I Compare Thee

Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Thou art sworn to sea and the waves irate:
Rough winds do stir the ripples all the day.
And winter's Heath hath all too long inflate:
Sometime to spot the rides of winter's tides,
And often in this cold inflection dimm'd;
And every hair from their underarm sides.
By chance or, later, hating hoarse untrimm'd:
But thy ethereal winter hath laid.
For whose lesson learnt, frozen always, lest:
And how the icy Death grabs at life's wades,
When sin eternally tries to bereft.
So long as men can tease the shores at sea,
Oh, songs will be sung in winter for thee.