When forty winters shall beseige thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' Proving his beauty by succession thine! This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DISMANTLED SHIP by WALT WHITMAN TO HIS DEAR FRIEND THOMAS RANDOLPH, ON HIS COMEDY 'THE JEALOUS LOVERS' by RICHARD BENEFIELD BALAUSTION'S ADVENTURE: PART 4 by ROBERT BROWNING VICTORIAN LADIES by MILDRED HATTON BRYAN THE DAUGHTERS OF ASOPUS by CORINNA (6TH CENTURY B.C.) |