Let he, like I, of whom with dimming light:
Does view the setting sun within his glass;
By his depressed, or decade's bitter sight;
With stare of sombre eyes, his hours pass,
Onto himself may wish his furrows filled;
And brighter sun complex upon his face;
By reminiscence make what years had splilled;
That he may shine within back yonder grace:
Dear friend, decay has not yet creased your heart;
Why spend the seconds bitter of your years?
Your face is yours as born it's youthful start,
Enough of time is bitter, minus tears!

For we of time; may seek where ours began
Creating merely time's unhappy fan.

My furry coated fluff-ball does so bark
As tho' by each a roar is pleasure met
Not via song nor tones of sweetest lark
But in such voice that my acusstoms let,
Why do I choose to burden my own ears?
And glue to clothings; sticky canine fur,
To then have soaked saliva's ridden tears
About my cheek with enthusiasm's spur!
I witness disregard for leather's couch
Complete with shear disdain for carpet floors
And horrid shoey murders by a grouch
With innocence of eyes upon all fours!

But with such pain now I divulge by heart:
Without such farce, would I be torn apart!

My mirror cries, my mirror sighs
But mine are dry, too dry to cry
The glass it seems, has cracking seams
That seep of wine, as red as mine,
But mine withold, and far too cold
To drip and fall, to splash and crawl,
But mirror mine, was never fine.

My mirror speaks, of sorrow's weeps
And weeping by, the seconds die
But silence stills, and lips with pills
Drink both by brine, down sorrows' mine,
Tho' differ we, the same we be
My mirror dies, whilst I in lies:
That mirror mine, is all to fine.

My mirror knows, it barely glows
No light to shed, on who is dead
No breath to breathe, no breath to leave
Yet I do shine, appearing fine,
Yes differ we, but same we be
For none to see, except for me
That I am fine, but mirror mine.

If found her beauty, then have found my eyes:
As painter's draw their muse, do mine of hers;
That when in blink her lovely youths apprise
Depicting truth as tho' by glass transfers;
No dreaming brush omits the slightest curve
Nor other light bestow that grace increase;
That artistry does best by mind preserve
So she through time bare not of time's decrease.
Yet could the years by force of cruel age,
Redraw by season's pen what I had drawed?
No! Art's the soldier 'gainst what time can wage;
Whilst skin may crease, by heart is none withdrawn!

But when her portrait's gaze outlasts my time
This canvas shall replace her frame with rhyme.

If love is equal to the fame it claims;
To fame it has no great monogamy,
Behind that which so prides, by self defames;
As plays the part of one's misogamy:
First has believed the host, with wondrous gift;
Deferred the eyes from under beauty's veil
To then proceed the 'everlasting lift'
Until of heart does love itself impale.
Yet have, by love methinks, I've been unjust;
By wary heart in search for better blame;
Than what in shattered glass is shattered trust;
Then love's still love, retreating where it came:

The bitter shards is not of love's remake
Apologies to love, for love's own sake!

When I compare my frame to other men:
I weep, and mirror's glass weeps for me too,
By height it seems their taller shrinks me when-
With force that they deny me greater view.
My dome's as barest 'neath their hairs of lush;
Of thickly grass by substanced strength unknown
How happy must they smile in each a brush
And pleasure's reep by winds that have them blown.
They boast by skin and shape, by right they're art,
Which have me think of art that I am fond:
A lover which attends my mirror's heart
As she's since loved with love's devoutly bond:

As I recall the loveliness she sends
I frown to trade for all their beauty lends!

Let he, whom in my kingdom, read here smart:
Your eyeslids best be closed when near my love;
That she is near, is not for gazer's art;
Except for mine that gaze her there above!
But if believe your love has mine outdone
You've narrowed small our friendship's wary lease
And let the rose between the earth and sun
To where your mateship's worth is worth to cease,
Yet if your cause is merely jealous eyed
How can of man be blamed if acts the brand?
For beauty, tho' is taken, yet have shy'd
Then friend that eye have best in you remand!

Make this exception to our friendship's writ:
I side with beauty, yours has yet been lit!