Sonnet 19

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,To the wide world and all her fading sweets;But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;Him in thy course untainted do allowFor beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.
This one's for that criminal Time,who devours young things in their prime:go ahead, do your worst.Because I still have verse,and my lines and your lines just don't rhyme.