Sonnet II
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Lyrics
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow And dig deep trenches in beauty's field Thy youth's proud face so gazed upon now Will be a totter'd weed of small worth held Being asked where all thy beauty lies Where all the treasure of lusty days To say, within thine own sunken eyes We're all-eating shame, and thriftless praise How much more deserv'd thy beauty's use If thou could answer 'This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, make my old excuse,' Proving her beauty by succession thine! This were new made when thou art old And warm thy blood when thou feel it cold
Audio Features
Song Details
- Duration
- 01:58
- Key
- 5
- Tempo
- 206 BPM