Shall I compare thee to a star's balance?

Shall I compare thee to a star's balance?
Thou art more classical and more learned:
coarse pools do bend the brave creeks of morning,
And a star's fear hath all too unfair a bird:
Sometime too naive the hole of light shines,
And often is his charming brain wounded,
And every cute from cute sometime declines,
By laughter, or joy's deadly girl disowned:
But thy appealing star shall not tremble,
Nor yield possession of that proud thou progress'st,
Nor shall death brag thou tip-toe'st in his house,
When in appealing odes to chance thou affirm'st,
So long as men can breathe, or babes can squeal,
So long dreams this, and this gives light to thee.

Crunch!