Devouring time, blunt thou the lion's paws, and make the earth devour her own sweet brood; pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, and burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, and do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed time, to the wide world and all her fading sweets; but I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; him in thy course untainted do allow for beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst, old time: despite thy wrong, my love shall in my verse ever live young.
W.S.
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