Shakespeare's Sonnet 106

When in the chronicle of wasted timeI see descriptions of the fairest wights,And beauty making beautiful old rime,In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,I see their antique pen would have express’dEven such a beauty as you master now.So all their praises are but propheciesOf this our time, all you prefiguring;And for they looked but with divining eyes,They had not skill enough your worth to sing:For we, which now behold these present days,Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

When I read accounts of times long past and see descriptions of the most beautiful people, and beauty lending beauty to old poems praising dead ladies and handsome knights, then, in those detailed accounts of beauty at its best—of hands, feet, lips, eyes, and brows—I see that those ancient writers were trying to express the very beauty you now possess. So all their praises are only prophecies of our own time, all foreshadowing you. And because they saw only through prophetic visions, they lacked the skill to sing your worth. For even we, who see you in these present days, have eyes to marvel but lack the words to praise you.