Sonnet LXIII: Against My Love shall be as I am Now (William Shakespeare)

Against my love shall be as I am now
With time’s injurious hand crush’t and o’er-worn,
When hours have drain’d his blood and fill’d his brow
With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn
Hath travail’d on to age’s steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he’s king
Are vanishing, or vanish’t out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring.
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age’s cruel knife,
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.

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