Sonnet 104

To me, fair friend, you could never be old

As you were when your eye I eyed

Is your beauty still three winters cold?

From the forest shook three summer's pride

Three beautiful springs to autumn turned

In process of the seasons seen

Three April perfumes in hot June burned

Since first you were fresh which yet are green

Those unborn, who will never be

Witness to summer's beauty

Your beauty like a dial hand

From his figure, no pace perceived

Your sweet hue, I feel still does stand

Moves and my eyes have me deceived

Those unborn, who will never be

Witness to summer's beauty

Those unborn, who will never be

Witness to summer's beauty