To me, fair friend, you never can be old (Michael Gray)
- Editor: Michael Gray (submitted 2018-12-09). Score information: Letter (landscape), 8 pages, 258 kB Copyright: CC BY NC ND
- Edition notes: Part of a collection in progress, "Book of Sonnets"
External websites: http://www.graymichael.com
Original text and translations
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summer's 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 preceiv'd;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand
Hath motion and my eye may be deceiv'd:
For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
William Shakespeare (Sonnet CIV)