Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; 
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, 
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
To the wide world and all her fading sweets; 
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: 
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; 
Him in thy course untainted do allow 
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 
Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young. 

Liz Strait