Since brass, nor, stone, nor earth, nor boundness sea.
But sad mortality O'ersways their power.
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
whose action is no stronger that a flower?
O! How shall summer's honey breath hold out,
againt the wrackful siege of battering days.
When rocks impregnable are not so stout
nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! Where, alack,
shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back
or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O! None, unless this mircle have might
that in black ink my love may still shine bright.
William Shakespeare
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