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 fugure, and no pace perceiv'd;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd.
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,
Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead.


Lyrics submitted by azkm

Mirkwood Sonnet song meanings
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    General CommentThis is Shakespeare's Sonnet 104, written near the end of the sixteenth century.
    azkmon November 15, 2010   Link

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