Sonnet 7

Lo, in the orient when the gracious lightLifts up his burning head, each under eyeDoth homage to his new-appearing sight,Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 4And 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; 8But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted areFrom his low tract, and look another way: 12So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.

9–12 Cf. n.9 highmost pitch: highest elevation11 converted: turned away12 tract: course13 thyself outgoing . . . noon: passing beyond your noon of beauty