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'ersnowed and bareness everywhere. <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 distilled, 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-5-those-hours-that-with-gentle-work-did-f/
