I shall compare you to a day in spring to complement the summer Shakespeare wrote. Your voice is fairer than the birds that sing of love, in every way on every note. The sweetened fabric 'round a flower's face is far less lovely than your silken hair: the former lacks in sheen and goes to waste when comes the callous winter's annual air. The season's song, its scent, its look and feel are still quite beautiful, make no mistake, but this is true because your own appeal is made the greater by these very traits. The spring may flaunt a lovely sky and floor, but springtime makes you gorgeous all the more.