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-Liv'D Phoenix, In Her Blood; Make Glad And Sorry Seasons As Thou Fleets, 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.