LO! in the orient when the gracious light |
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LO! in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty; And having climb�d the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage; But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, The eyes, �fore duteous, now converted are From his low tract, and look another way: So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, Unlook�d on diest, unless thou get a son. |
| Sonnet VII, William Shakespeare |
| Beat the Time |
| Oil pastels, 2004 |