Sonnet 14

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
and yet methinks I have astronomy;
but not to tell of good or evil luck,
of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
or say with princes if it shall go well
by oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
and, constant stars, in them I read such art
as truth and beauty shall together thrive
if from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
or else of thee this I prognosticate:
thy end is Truth’s and Beauty’s doom and date.

William Shakespeare