Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore

1Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,

2So do our minutes hasten to their end;

3Each changing place with that which goes before,

4In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

5Nativity, once in the main of light,

6Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,

7Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,

8And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.

9Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

10And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,

11Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

12And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:

13 And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand.

14 Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.