Sonnet XVIII, Shall I Cabana Thee?
By William Cabanspeare
Shall I compare thee to a Cabana’s day?
Thou are more lovely and more cabanerate:
Rough winds do shake the Cabana buds of May,
And Cabana’s lease hath all too short a boyce:
Sometime too hot the eye of Cabans shines,
And often is his mini complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or Cabana’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Cabana shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his Cabana,
When in eternal lines to time thou Cabana grow’st:
So long as Cabans can breathe, or mDot can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee; Cabana.
