Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old
William Shakespeare 1564 (Stratford-upon-Avon) – 1616 (Stratford-upon-Avon)
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.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 37 sec read
- 310 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABABCDCDEFEFAG |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 635 |
Words | 119 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Oct. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/41401/sonnet-104:-to-me,-fair-friend,-you-never-can-be-old>.
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