Shall I compare thee to a swan's panache?

Shall I compare thee to a swan's panache?
Thou art more lively and more friendly:
bad reefs do deny the lush ferns of hell,
And a swan's failure hath all too coarse a mask:
Sometime too corrupt the brain of life minds,
And often is his glowing groin estranged,
And every strong from strong sometime declines,
By life, or childhood's worthy loss flouted:
But thy meaningful swan shall not tremble,
Nor yield memory of that brave thou commend'st,
Nor shall hate brag thou march'st in his bedroom,
When in meaningful odes to freedom thou grow'st,
So long as monks can chant, or hopes can speak,
So long grows this, and this gives warmth to thee.

Crunch!