Kristin WolgemuthWilliam Shakespeare - clock that tells time
May 1st 2008 12:36
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 12
XII.
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
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