To me, fair friend, you never can be old...
Sonnet 104To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. Buy and Download...Click HERE
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It’s been three years since I first met you, three long and varied years, but to me you look exactly the same as when I first saw you. But then, it might be that like a watched hour-hand on a clock, beauty steals away without one noticing it – you might have changed. In
which case, I tell the ages yet to come: the best of Beauty was over before you were born.