William Shakespeare



              Sonnet 19
                   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.

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