Who will believe my verse in times to come?
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet it is, but as a tomb which hides your life
And shows not half of your parts
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in my verses number all your grace
The age to come would say, this poet lies, such beauty
Never touched an earthly face

I'm eternally yours
Eternally yours
Dying with my time
Forever in my song
Eternally yours
Eternally yours
Eternally yours

So if my papers weathers with their age
Be scorned like old men of less truth than tongue
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
In the stretched meter of an antique song
But were some child of yours alive that time
You should live twice in in and in my rhyme
A woman's face by nature's own hand drawn
The master-mistress of my fervidness
I'm eternally yours
Eternally yours
Dying with my time
Forever in my song

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Or some fierce beast replete with too much rage
For I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite
Looking at darkness as blind people do
Only my soul's imaginary sight
Presents your shadow to my sightless view
Just like a jewel hung in blackest night

I'm eternally yours
Eternally yours
Dying with my time
Forever in my song
Eternally yours
Eternally yours
Eternally yours

My mirror won't persuade me I am old
As long as youth and you are of one date
But when in your time's furrows I behold
Then it is time to anticipate death
For all that beauty that does cover you
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart
Which in your breast does live as yours in mine
How can I then be older than you are?
I'm eternally yours
Dying with my time
Forever in my song