[1] When I do count the clock that tells the time,
[2] And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
[3] When I behold the violet past prime,
[4] And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
[5] When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
[6] Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
[7] And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
[8] Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
[9] Then of thy beauty do I question make,
[10] That thou among the wastes of time must go,
[11] Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
[12] And die as fast as they see others grow;
[13] And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
[14] Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
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