Sonnet 8. There’s nothing grieve me, but that Age should haste

Michael Drayton (1563–1631)

[First printed in 1619.]

THERE’s nothing grieve me, but that Age should haste,

That in my days, I may not see the old!

That where those two clear sparkling Eyes are placed,

Only two loopholes, then I might behold!

That lovely archèd ivory-polished Brow

Defaced with wrinkles, that I might but see!

Thy dainty Hair, so curled and crispèd now,

Like grizzled moss upon some agèd tree!

Thy Cheek, now flush with roses, sunk and lean!

Thy Lips, with age as any wafer thin!

Thy pearly Teeth, out of thy head so clean,

That when thou feed’st, thy Nose shall touch thy Chin!

These Lines that now scornst, which should delight thee:

Then would I make thee read, but to despite thee!