Coil Xi. Montecute (Civ) Letras:
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
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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.
Letras: Xi. Montecute (Civ) Coil [final]