Shall I compare thee to a tiger's faith?

Shall I compare thee to a tiger's faith?
Thou art more perfect and more wealthy:
mean brooks do strain the friendly rills of noon,
And a tiger's death hath all too hard a kiss:
Sometime too coarse the mouth of faith rises,
And often is his cheerful groin distressed,
And every bold from bold sometime declines,
By hate, or progress's careful bait threatened:
But thy truthful tiger shall not suffer,
Nor choke luxury of that just thou open'st,
Nor shall woe brag thou walk'st in his footsteps,
When in truthful songs to hope thou champion'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long cheers this, and this gives strength to thee.

Crunch!