When I do Count the clock that tells the time And see the brave day sunk In hideous night When I behold the violet, past prime Sable curls all silver dore and white When lofty trees I see Barren of leaves Which erst from heat That cannopy the herd And summer's green All girded up in sheaves Born on the bier With white and gristly beard Then of thy beauty Do I question, make? That thou amoung the wastes of time Must go? Since sweets and beauties, do themselves forsake and die As fast as they see others grow ♪ And nothing 'Gainst time's scythe can make defence Save greed To brave him when he takes the axe