Hey ho! Here’s today’s offerings. This is one of my favs because I can actually imagine someone telling their love this sonnet; caressing their faces and looking deep into their eyes. Anywhoo, have a good one.
F. M. Laster
“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West
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 turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
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.