Lean back and let the words run down your face
The old high way of love
Just because it perished
Shall I compare thee
Nothing like the sun
Will never wholly kiss you
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.
I think I made you up inside my head.
[to be clear: I only wrote the first line of this. The other lines are from Yeats, Millay, Shakespeare, Shakespeare, Cummings, Frost, and Plath]