When some shall say, Faire once my Silvia was; Thou wilt complaine, False now's thy Looking-glasse: Which renders that quite tarnisht, wch was green; And Priceless now, what Peerless once had been: Upon thy Forme more wrinkles yet will fall, And comming downe, shall make no noise at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT ... MY INFANT TO ME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON EPITAPH by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 25, ASKING FOR HER HEART (3) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HOW LONG? by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE OLD COWPUNCHER SPEAKS by BERTON BRALEY THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: DESIRE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |