Thursday, April 23, 2009

Shakespeare too (Today is the Anniversay of his Death)

SONNET 104 (written to a male lover)

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 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.

See Mabillard, Amanda. An Analysis of Shakespeare's Sonnet 104. Shakespeare Online. 2000. (23/4/2009) < >.

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