Sonnet 16

　　But wherefore do not you a mightier way

　　Make war upon this bloody tyrant，Time，

　　And fortify yourself in your decay

　　With means more blessèd than my barren rime？

　　Now stand you on the top of happy hours，

　　And many maiden gardens yet unset

　　With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers，

　　Much liker than your painted counterfeit.

　　So should the lines of life that life repair

　　Which this time's pencil or my pu