William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet CXXVI.

“O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power”

O THOU, my lovely boy, who in thy power  
Dost hold Time’s fickle glass, his sickle hour;  
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’st  
Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow’st;  
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,    5
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,  
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill  
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.  
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!  
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:   10
  Her audit, though delay’d, answer’d must be,  
  And her quietus is to render thee.