The Bookshelf

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd

The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age;

When sometimes lofty towers I see down-ras'd,

And brass eternal, slave to mortal rage;

When I have seen the hungry ocean gain

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,

And the firm soil win of the wat'ry main,

Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;

When I have seen such interchange of state,

Or state itself confounded to decay;

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate --

That Time will come and take my love away.

This thought is as a death, which cannot choose

But weep to have that which it fears to lose.