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| When I consider every thing that grows | 1 |
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| Holds in perfection but a little moment, |
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| That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows |
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| Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; |
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| When I perceive that men as plants increase, | 5 |
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| Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky, |
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| Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, |
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| And wear their brave state out of memory; |
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| Then the conceit of this inconstant stay |
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| Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, | 10 |
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| Where wasteful Time debateth with decay |
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| To change your day of youth to sullied night, |
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 And all in war with Time for love of you, |
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| As he takes from you, I engraft you new. |
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