My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; <br /> I love not less, though less the show appear: <br /> That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming <br /> The owner's tongue doth publish every where. <br /> Our love was new and then but in the spring <br /> When I was wont to greet it with my lays, <br /> As Philomel in summer's front doth sing <br /> And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: <br /> Not that the summer is less pleasant now <br /> Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, <br /> But that wild music burthens every bough <br /> And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. <br /> Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, <br /> Because I would not dull you with my song.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-cii/
