Sonnet 2 - Edith Evans.mp3
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[00:00.00]When forty winters shall besiege thy brow[00:03.30]And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,[00:07.16]Thy youth’s proud livery, so gaz’d on now,[00:10.99]Will be a tatter’d ****, of small worth held:[00:14.87]Then being ask’d where all thy beauty lies,[00:18.18]Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,[00:21.39]To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,[00:25.52]Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.[00:30.13]How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,[00:34.43]If thou couldst answer “This fair child of mine[00:39.29]Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,”[00:43.69]Proving his beauty by succession thine![00:48.03]This were to be new made when thou art old,[00:52.29]And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.
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