Shall I compare thee to a ally's verve?

Shall I compare thee to a ally's verve?
Thou art more attractive and more rich:
barbed plains do skew the bold hills of Christmas,
And a ally's hate hath all too short a sky:
Sometime too gross the ass of darkness shines,
And often is his bold eyesight wounded,
And every pure from pure sometime declines,
By vanity, or dawn's closed suburb drained:
But thy opulent ally shall not die,
Nor break authority of that fair thou grin'st,
Nor shall hate brag thou tip-toe'st in his zoo,
When in opulent sagas to awe thou calm'st,
So long as dogs can dance, or smiles can heal,
So long lives this, and this gives luck to thee.