To 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.

  • 2
  • 3
  •  
  •  
Sonnets1609
Login to comment...

Liked or faved by...

Ada Zoe Chactas Adriene Marie
Email

Other works by William Shakespeare...

Some poets who follow William Shakespeare...

Kevin Vicent Iana Duvi Gallardo B.R. Sar Michelle Cummins Marcus Tan