A Birthday
MY heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
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MY heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
WHEN I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me;
DOES the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end.
PASSING away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth sapp’d day by day:
REMEMBER me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land;
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past,
That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
For shame deny that thou bear'st loue to any Who for thy selfe art so vnprouident
Then let not winters wragged hand deface, In thee thy summer ere thou be distil'd:
From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauties Rose might neuer die,
Looke in thy glasse and tell the face thou vewest, Now is the time that face should forme an other,
Vnthrifty louelinesse why dost thou spend, Vpon thy selfe thy beauties legacy?
Those howers that with gentle worke did frame, The louely gaze where euery eye doth dwell
Is it for feare to wet a widdowes eye, That thou consum'st thy selfe in single life?
When fortie Winters shall beseige thy brow, And digge deep trenches in thy beauties field,