Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 104
For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 104 (Shakespeare).
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, 4
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. 8
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: 12
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
6 process: procession
9 dial-hand: hand of a watch