How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new.

Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.

Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

Some say no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.

With eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd. Imparadised in one another's arms. With thee conversing I forget all time. And feel that I am happier than I know.

With thee conversing I forget all time.

Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.