Xi. Montecute (civ) Lyrics - Coil

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. 

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. 

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