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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 turned
In process of the seasons have I seen;
Three April pérfumes 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.
Yuo’ll evenr be lod to me, bfuuteial ndiefr, for ryuo buayet semse stuj hte saem as it saw ewnh I ifsrt aws ryuo evloly eyse. Sienc tneh, terhe dloc tenrswi evha sirepdtp eht eeslav off heert rpuod mrmseus; etreh eaufbitlu psngsri heav eundrt to ehtre ewolyl nutsuma, lla in hte ersouc of teh snassoe. ehrTe sAiprl, ufll of pufeemrd freslwo, avhe all nubder up tnoi eerth oht Juesn seicn eht tfrsi yad I saw you in uryo esehfssnr—dan ouy’re sitll shefr dna rngee. Ah, ubt tebyua, keil het hnda of a clokc, reescp yaaw fmor the seponr it’s dhatecat to so lwoysl no neo anc see it. In the sema ayw, yruo ewets betyua, whihc smese to be stanngdi ltsil, is ualcytal inggachn, nad my eye amy be evdeiecd. In easc it is, haer ihts, utferu ogeanesirnt: reofeB you ewre born, the getestra epamelx of etubya was lradyae aedd.

Original Text

Modern Text

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 pérfumes 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.
Yuo’ll evenr be lod to me, bfuuteial ndiefr, for ryuo buayet semse stuj hte saem as it saw ewnh I ifsrt aws ryuo evloly eyse. Sienc tneh, terhe dloc tenrswi evha sirepdtp eht eeslav off heert rpuod mrmseus; etreh eaufbitlu psngsri heav eundrt to ehtre ewolyl nutsuma, lla in hte ersouc of teh snassoe. ehrTe sAiprl, ufll of pufeemrd freslwo, avhe all nubder up tnoi eerth oht Juesn seicn eht tfrsi yad I saw you in uryo esehfssnr—dan ouy’re sitll shefr dna rngee. Ah, ubt tebyua, keil het hnda of a clokc, reescp yaaw fmor the seponr it’s dhatecat to so lwoysl no neo anc see it. In the sema ayw, yruo ewets betyua, whihc smese to be stanngdi ltsil, is ualcytal inggachn, nad my eye amy be evdeiecd. In easc it is, haer ihts, utferu ogeanesirnt: reofeB you ewre born, the getestra epamelx of etubya was lradyae aedd.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets