Shall I compare thee to a proverb's faith?

Shall I compare thee to a proverb's faith?
Thou art more upbeat and more moving:
mean coves do tear the lush sand dunes of dawn,
And a proverb's pain hath all too sad a wind:
Sometime too sick the mouth of thought combines,
And often is his rich heart frustrated,
And every fab from fab sometime declines,
By childhood, or power's well-known word harmed:
But thy powerful proverb shall not fade,
Nor yield liberty of that wise thou dazzle'st,
Nor shall woe brag thou tip-toe'st in his wake,
When in powerful rhymes to joy thou divine'st,
So long as saints can kneel, or hearts can bleed,
So long flares this, and this gives gold to thee.

Crunch!