Blessings Of Your Heart, You

You Will Never Age For Me, Nor Fade, Nor Die.

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

My Endeavors Have Ever Come Too Short Of My Desires. Yet Filed With My Abilities.

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

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.