All kings,
and all
their
favourites,
All glory
of honours,
beauties,
wits, The
sun itself,
which makes
time,
as they
pass, Is
elder
by
a year now
than it
was When
thou and
I first
one another
saw. All
other things
to their
destruction
draw, Only
our love
hath no decay;
This no
to-morrow
hath,
nor yesterday;
Running
it never
runs
from
us away,
But truly
keeps his
first,
last,
everlasting
day.