Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, <br />And yet methinks I have astronomy— <br />But not to tell of good or evil luck, <br />Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; <br />Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, <br />'Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind, <br />Or say with princes if it shall go well <br />By oft predict that I in heaven find. <br />But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, <br />And, constant stars, in them I read such art <br />As truth and beauty shall together thrive <br />If from thy self to store thou wouldst convert; <br /> Or else of thee this I prognosticate: <br /> Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-14-not-from-the-stars-do-i-my-judgement-p/
