
Shakespeare's Sonnet 104
No se pudo agregar al carrito
Add to Cart failed.
Error al Agregar a Lista de Deseos.
Error al eliminar de la lista de deseos.
Error al añadir a tu biblioteca
Error al seguir el podcast
Error al dejar de seguir el podcast
-
Narrado por:
-
De:
Acerca de esta escucha
I'm back on my own for this one! Shakespeare is back to his old ways of talking about ageing and beauty.
Our story continues with Shakespeare and Marlowe taking "a break".
Sonnet 104
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.