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12-05-2008, 03:10 AM
Sonnet #104
CIV.br /br /To me, fair friend, you never can be old,br /For as you were when first your eye I eyed,br /Such seems your beauty still. Three winters coldbr /Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,br /Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'dbr /In process of the seasons have I seen,br /Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,br /Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.br /Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,br /Steal from his figure and no pace perceived;br /So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,br /Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived:br /For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;br /Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
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CIV.br /br /To me, fair friend, you never can be old,br /For as you were when first your eye I eyed,br /Such seems your beauty still. Three winters coldbr /Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,br /Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'dbr /In process of the seasons have I seen,br /Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,br /Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.br /Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,br /Steal from his figure and no pace perceived;br /So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,br /Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived:br /For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;br /Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
More... (http://www.sonnetaday.com)