Look, Delia, how we 'steem the half-blown Rose, <br />The image of thy blush and Summer's honor, <br />Whilst in her tender green she doth enclose <br />That pure sweet Beauty Time bestows upon her. <br />No sooner spreads her glory in the air, <br />But straight her full-blown pride is in declining; <br />She then is scorn'd that late adorn'd the Fair; <br />So clouds thy beauty after fairest shining. <br />No April can revive thy wither'd flowers, <br />Whose blooming grace adorns thy glory now; <br />Swift speedy Time, feather'd with flying hours, <br />Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. <br />O let not then such riches waste in vain, <br />But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxxix-look-delia/
