Sonnet Xix

William Shakespeare

     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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