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letra de at the heart of it all - coil

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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;
ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead

- coil

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