The Sonnets, by William Shakespeare


7: Lo in the orient when the gracious light

  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, thy self out-going in thy noon:
    Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.

Back to index