[1] Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
[2] The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
[3] Will play the tyrants to the very same
[4] And that unfair which fairly doth excel:
[5] For never-resting time leads summer on
[6] To hideous winter and confounds him there;
[7] Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
[8] Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:
[9] Then, were not summer's distillation left,
[10] A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
[11] Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
[12] Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
[13] But flowers distill'd though they with winter meet,
[14] Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
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