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.

Crunch!