The Sonnets, by William Shakespeare


63: Against my love shall be as I am now

  Against my love shall be as I am now 
  With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn,
  When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow 
  With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn 
  Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
  And all those beauties whereof now he's king 
  Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
  Stealing away the treasure of his spring:
  For such a time do I now fortify 
  Against confounding age's cruel knife,
  That he shall never cut from memory 
  My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
    His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
    And they shall live, and he in them still green.

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