Sonnet LX:

LX.1:Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
LX.2:So do our minutes hasten to their end;
LX.3:Each changing place with that which goes before,
LX.4:In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
LX.5:Nativity, once in the main of light,
LX.6:Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
LX.7:Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
LX.8:And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
LX.9:Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
LX.10:And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
LX.11:Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
LX.12:And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
LX.13:  And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
LX.14:  Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.