Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time

1When I do count the clock that tells the time,

2And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

3When I behold the violet past prime,

4And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;

5When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

6Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

7And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,

8Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,

9Then of thy beauty do I question make,

10That thou among the wastes of time must go,

11Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

12And die as fast as they see others grow;

13 And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence

14 Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.