William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet LXIII.

“Against my love shall be as I am now”

AGAINST my love shall be, as I am now  
With Time’s injurious hand crush’d and o’erworn;  
When hours have drain’d his blood and fill’d his brow  
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn  
Hath travell’d on to age’s steepy night;    5
And all those beauties whereof now he ’s king  
Are vanishing or vanish’d out of sight,  
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;  
For such a time do I now fortify  
Against confounding age’s cruel knife,   10
That he shall never cut from memory  
My sweet love’s beauty, though my lover’s life:  
  His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,  
  And they shall live, and he in them still green.