There's nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, <br />That in my days I may not see thee old, <br />That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac'd <br />Only two loop-holes then I might behold; <br />That lovely, arched, ivory, polish'd brow <br />Defac'd with wrinkles that I might but see; <br />Thy dainty hair, so curl'd and crisped now, <br />Like grizzled moss upon some aged tree; <br />Thy cheek, now flush with roses, sunk and lean; <br />Thy lips with age as any wafer thin; <br />Thy pearly teeth out of thy head so clean <br />That, when thou feed'st, thy nose shall touch thy chin. <br />These lines that now thou scorn'st, which should delight thee, <br />Then would I make thee read but to despite thee.<br /><br />Michael Drayton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-viii-there-s-nothing-grieves-me/
