Sonnet 19
b'
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion\\u2019s paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger\\u2019s jaws,
And burn the long-liv\\u2019d phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet\\u2019st,
And do what e\\u2019er 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\\u2019s fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow,
For beauty\\u2019s pattern to succeeding men.
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 My love shall in my verse ever live young.