Shakespeare's Sonnets: To me, fair friend, you never can be old
1To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
2For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
3Such seems your beauty still: three winters cold
4Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
6In process of the seasons have I seen.
7Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd
9Ah yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
11So your sweet hue, which me thinks still doth stand,
12Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived,
14 Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS (London: G. Eld for T. T. and sold by William Aspley, 1609): g2v.
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