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Choose the prints you like, when you like, after the event, and pay per print to suit your budget. There is no 'minimum' order. You can order as many, or as few as you want.
Free booking
Choose the prints you like, when you like, after the event, and pay per print to suit your budget. There is no 'minimum' order. You can order as many, or as few as you want.
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned,
In process of the seasons I have seen;
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eyes may be deceived,-
For fear of which, hear this, though age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
(Shakespeare, sonnet 104)
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned,
In process of the seasons I have seen;
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eyes may be deceived,-
For fear of which, hear this, though age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
(Shakespeare, sonnet 104)