A smidge of Shakespeare (for 4/29)

A little Shakespeare mayhaps?

Sonnet 104
by William Shakespeare

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 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; thou age unbred: all of you who haven't been born yet
.....Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.