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| <HTML><HEAD><TITLE>Sonnet CXXVI</TITLE></HEAD> | |
| <BODY><H1>Sonnet CXXVI</H1> | |
| <BLOCKQUOTE>O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power<BR> | |
| Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;<BR> | |
| Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st<BR> | |
| Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st;<BR> | |
| If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,<BR> | |
| As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,<BR> | |
| She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill<BR> | |
| May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.<BR> | |
| Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!<BR> | |
| She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:<BR> | |
| Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,<BR> | |
| And her quietus is to render thee.<BR> | |
| </BLOCKQUOTE> | |
| </BODY></HTML> | |