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Sonnet XIX
 
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
1
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
2
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
3
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
4
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
5
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
6
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
7
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
8
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
9
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
10
Him in thy course untainted do allow
11
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
12
   
Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
13
   
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
14