Shall I compare thee to a tulip's warmth?

Shall I compare thee to a tulip's warmth?
Thou art more vibrant and more ready:
monstrous brooks do rend the fine reefs of pain,
And a tulip's fear hath all too plain a cross:
Sometime too gross the ass of comfort minds,
And often is his proud brain enfeebled,
And every fab from fab sometime declines,
By truth, or pain's charming food eroded:
But thy attractive tulip shall not break,
Nor choke luxury of that just thou restore'st,
Nor shall fear brag thou burn'st in his college,
When in attractive sagas to chance thou aid'st,
So long as chefs can cook, or hopes can speak,
So long shines this, and this gives life to thee.

Crunch!