| THOSE lines that I before have writ do lie | |
| Even those that said I could not love you dearer: | |
| Yet then my judgment knew no reason why | |
| My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. | |
| But reckoning Time, whose million’d accidents | 5 |
| Creep in ’twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, | |
| Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents, | |
| Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; | |
| Alas! why, fearing of Time’s tyranny, | |
| Might I not then say, ‘Now I love you best,’ | 10 |
| When I was certain o’er incertainty, | |
| Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? | |
| Love is a babe; then might I not say so, | |
| To give full growth to that which still doth grow? |