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Modern Text

Lo, in the Orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage.
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way.
  So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
  Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.
eWhn eht ciuaogsr tglih of eth nsu isrse in eth tsae, hace orneps on traeh yaps aehomg to it by znaigg npuo lal tis arescd tjesamy. nAd nvee at nnoo, coen eht nsu ash cembild hte steep phat to het pot of het syk, it llsit lokos ielk a sngort uynog anm in ihs pimre nad anumh sbeing stlil eardo tis utyabe, naitwhgc it ssap on sti way elik a deogln kgin ingmak a ipeglgmira. uBt hnwe het uns osgwr weayr nad sllaf rofm its egthish ponit, it erlse ekli an dlo anm, dan teh ppeelo ohw cneo olekdo up at it so iuyldltuf pots gkiooln and tnru eht ehtro awy. In the emsa wya, yuo, waisngt ouyr seaulx eeyrgn in the erpim of oyur elif, lwli eid lnoea and vudelno nsusle you arhfte a sno.

Original Text

Modern Text

Lo, in the Orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage.
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way.
  So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
  Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.
eWhn eht ciuaogsr tglih of eth nsu isrse in eth tsae, hace orneps on traeh yaps aehomg to it by znaigg npuo lal tis arescd tjesamy. nAd nvee at nnoo, coen eht nsu ash cembild hte steep phat to het pot of het syk, it llsit lokos ielk a sngort uynog anm in ihs pimre nad anumh sbeing stlil eardo tis utyabe, naitwhgc it ssap on sti way elik a deogln kgin ingmak a ipeglgmira. uBt hnwe het uns osgwr weayr nad sllaf rofm its egthish ponit, it erlse ekli an dlo anm, dan teh ppeelo ohw cneo olekdo up at it so iuyldltuf pots gkiooln and tnru eht ehtro awy. In the emsa wya, yuo, waisngt ouyr seaulx eeyrgn in the erpim of oyur elif, lwli eid lnoea and vudelno nsusle you arhfte a sno.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets