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This sonnet discusses how time causes beauty to fade. The lovely gazes that were once framed by gentle hours will become tyrants to the same eyes. Never-resting time leads summer to hideous winter, where sap is checked by frost and leaves are gone, leaving beauty covered by snow and bareness everywhere. However, if summer's distillation was not left as a liquid prisoner in glass walls, beauty's effect would be bereft when beauty is gone, with no remembrance of what it was. But distilled flowers, though they meet winter, lose only their appearance, while their substance remains sweet.
This sonnet discusses how time causes beauty to fade. The lovely gazes that were once framed by gentle hours will become tyrants to the same eyes. Never-resting time leads summer to hideous winter, where sap is checked by frost and leaves are gone, leaving beauty covered by snow and bareness everywhere. However, if summer's distillation was not left as a liquid prisoner in glass walls, beauty's effect would be bereft when beauty is gone, with no remembrance of what it was. But distilled flowers, though they meet winter, lose only their appearance, while their substance remains sweet.
This sonnet discusses how time causes beauty to fade. The lovely gazes that were once framed by gentle hours will become tyrants to the same eyes. Never-resting time leads summer to hideous winter, where sap is checked by frost and leaves are gone, leaving beauty covered by snow and bareness everywhere. However, if summer's distillation was not left as a liquid prisoner in glass walls, beauty's effect would be bereft when beauty is gone, with no remembrance of what it was. But distilled flowers, though they meet winter, lose only their appearance, while their substance remains sweet.
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Will play the tyrants to the very same And that unfair which fairly doth excel: For never-resting time leads summer on To hideous winter, and confounds him there, Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere. Then, were not summer's distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it nor no remembrance what it was. But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet, Lose but their show, their substance still lives sweet.