Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges;Thou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes,And fresh from the kisses of death,Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean,Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallidAnd poisonous queen.

Time stoops to no man's lure.

Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.

Let weakness learn meekness.

Though one were fair as roses His beauty clouds and closes.

Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.

Heart's ease of pansy, pleasure or thought, Which would the picture give us of these? Surely the heart that conceived it sought Heart's ease.