Those hours, that with gentle work did frame <br />The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, <br />Will play the tyrants to the very same <br />And that unfair which fairly doth excel; <br />For never-resting time leads summer on <br />To hideous winter, and confounds him there; <br />Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone, <br />Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where: <br />Then were not summer's distillation left, <br />A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, <br />Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, <br />Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was: <br />But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet, <br />Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-v-those-hours-that-with-gentle-work-did-f/
