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thomas dehler - track 84 lyrics

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sonnet 104

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 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 figure 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.

- thomas dehler

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