Sonnet 139

For heaven sprinkled silver on your hair,
I saw it first yet just the other day;
That sable brown, so rich beyond compare,
Slight glistered as with snow that will not stay.
At first I thought it not but playful light,
Those dappled shadows that with aspects shift,
That from a nearer view would flee my sight,
And that my conscience there would not be miffed.
But it was silver still on nearer view,
Argentic auguries of passing time,
Sure not the auric gilt pure hearts accrue
Nor yet just bounty for a life sublime.
Yet silver touched, I not once thought you old,
For your sweet silver is but here my gold.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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