Shall I compare thee to a garland's warmth?

Shall I compare thee to a garland's warmth?
Thou art more cheerful and more earnest:
mean caves do skew the bold swamps of daybreak,
And a garland's death hath all too grim a tale:
Sometime too gruesome the loins of trust signs,
And often is his graceful foot entrapped,
And every light from light sometime declines,
By chance, or heaven's crisp son ridiculed:
But thy natural garland shall not blink,
Nor choke liberty of that wise thou progress'st,
Nor shall woe brag thou yield'st in his college,
When in natural tales to freedom thou aid'st,
So long as knights can free, or birds can sing,
So long lights this, and this gives peace to thee.

Crunch!