Now in the sad declension of thy time,
When all the world forsakes and lays thee by,
I but unveil my love, masked in the prime
Of thy transcendent glories. For mine eye,
Judge thee not woman but a deity;
And till those roses blushing on thy cheek,
Those lilies and those violets were seen
To wither thus, till all those sweets we seek
In ruin lay, I could ne'er begin
To court thee without hazard of a sin.
Freed from all rival doubts and jealous fears,
By time's rude hand, those relics I adore;
My flames increase, although thy beauty wears;
And in this temp'rate season love thee more,
Than in that scorching heat that went before.