Never can be old

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 summer’s pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d
In process of the seasons I have 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.

Sonnet 104