Sonnet 126. O thou my lovely boy who in thy power

O thou my lovely boy who in thy power

Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour:

Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st

Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st.

If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack)

As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back

She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill

May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.