William Shakespeare(1564–1616)

Sonnet 12

When I do count the clock that tells the time,

And see the brave 0 day sunk in hideous night;resplendent

When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

Which erst 0 from heat did canopy the herd,formerly

And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,

Borne on the bier1 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 defense

Save breed, 0 to brave 0 him when he takes thee hence, progeny I defy