26 lines
813 B
Markdown
26 lines
813 B
Markdown
---
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title: Sonnet 60
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date: 1609-05-20
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poet: William Shakespeare
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abstract: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, / So do our minutes hasten to their end.
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tags: [poetry]
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---
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
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So do our minutes hasten to their end;
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Each changing place with that which goes before,
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In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
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Nativity, once in the main of light,
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Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
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Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
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And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
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Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
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And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
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Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
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And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
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And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
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Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
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