Sonnet 60

　　Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore，

　　So do our minutes hasten to their end，

　　Each changing place with that which goes before；

　　In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

　　Nativity，once in the main of light，

　　Crawls to maturity，wherewith being crowned

　　Crooked eclipses'gainst his glory fight，

　　And time that gave doth now his gift confound.

　　Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth，

　　And delves th