David Gilmour - Sonnet 18

Shall I comp^Gare th^Aee to a s^Gummer's d^Day? Thou art more l^Emovel^Gy and m^Aore temper^Date: Rough winds do sh^Gake the darling buds of m^Day, And summer's l^Emease hath ^Gall too short a d^Date:

Sometime too h^Aot the eye of heaven s^Bmhines, And often ^Eis his gold complexion d^Aimm'd;

And every f^Gair ^A from fair somet^Gime decl^Dines, By chance or n^Emature'^Gs ch^Aanging course untr^Dimm'd;

But thy^A eternal summer shall not f^Bmade Nor lose poss^Eession of that fair thou o^Awest;

Nor shall death br^Gag thou wander'st in his sh^Dade, When in ^Emeternal l^Gines to time thou gr^Dowest:

So l^Aong as men can breathe or eyes can s^Bmee, So long lives th^Gis and th^Ais gives life to th^Dee