Verse > Anthologies > Robert Bridges, ed. > The Spirit of Man: An Anthology

Robert Bridges, ed. (1844–1930).  The Spirit of Man: An Anthology.  1916.
Sonnet XII

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
WHEN 1 I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver’d o’er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves        5
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer’s green, all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,        10
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
  And nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defence
  Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Note 1. Shakespeare. Sonnet XII. [back]

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