Friday, April 25, 2008

Poetry Friday - 8

To celebrate Shakespeare's birthday again (because I can if I want to), I offer you

Sonnet 104

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 turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April pérfumes in three hot Junes burned,
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.

This week's Poetry Friday round-up is over at The Miss Rumphius Effect


Anonymous said...

Ahh. That's the second time this week that I've read that one. Thanks for sharing it, because even twice isn't too often!!

Michele said...

Isn't it gorgeous?