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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,
And sable curls all silver\\u2019d o\\u2019er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer\\u2019s 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,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 And nothing \\u2019gainst Time\\u2019s scythe can make defense
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.