Shakespeare sonnet

XIXDevouring 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 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 allowFor beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,My love shall in my verse ever live young.