You love me now, when I am old
And all my beauty fades away,
Like autumn tints when turning gray
Leave life a tale near told.

I love you not for what you were
Or what you are, though silver gleams
May nestle in your sunny hair,
And envious crows plant feet of care
About your eyes, my hourly dreams

Hold but your image, sweetest heart,
Deep set within a shrine of gold,
With it I live a life apart
Where time is not, and like my art,
You never can grow old.