SInce brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower ?
O how shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring 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 or beauty can forbid ?
O none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
