When I do count the clock that tells the time, <br />And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; <br />When I behold the violet past prime, <br />And sable curls all silvered o'er with white; <br />When lofty trees I see barren of leaves <br />Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, <br />And summer's green all girded up in sheaves <br />Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, <br />Then of thy beauty do I question make <br />That thou among the wastes of time must go, <br />Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake <br />And die as fast as they see others grow; <br /> And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence <br /> Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-12-when-i-do-count-the-clock-that-tells-t/
