811Not marble, nor the gilded monuments

812Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;

813But you shall shine more bright in these contents

814Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.

815When wasteful war shall statues overturn,

816And broils root out the work of masonry,

817Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire, shall burn

818The living record of your memory.

819'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity

820Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room

821Even in the eyes of all posterity

822That wear this world out to the ending doom.

823 So till the judgment that yourself arise,

824 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

826Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said

827Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,

828Which but today by feeding is allayed,

829Tomorrow sharpened in his former might.

830So, love, be thou; although today thou fill

831Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fullness,

832Tomorrow see again, and do not kill

833The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness;

834Let this sad interim like the ocean be

835Which parts the shore, where two contracted new

836Come daily to the banks, that when they see

837Return of love, more blessed may be the view;

838 Or call it winter, which being full of care

839 Makes summer's welcome thrice more wished, more rare.

841Being your slave, what should I do but tend

842Upon the hours and times of your desire?

843I have no precious time at all to spend,

844Nor services to do, till you require;

845Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour

846Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,

847Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

848When you have bid your servant once adieu;

849Nor dare I question with my jealous thought

850Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,

851But like a sad slave stay and think of naught,

852Save, where you are, how happy you make those.

853 So true a fool is love, that in your will,

854 Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.