Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil  all forwards to contend.
Nativity once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, where with being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses, gainst his glory  fight,
And time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time  doth transfix the flourish  set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of natures truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe  to mow:
And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

         Note the repetition of the following, we find-his glory, his gift, his scythe, his cruel hand.
4th Line.  In sequent toil-toiling one after another.
8th Line.  Confound-destroy.
9th Line.  Flourish-bloom.
13th Line.  Times in hope-future times.

         Here the writer visualises time  hastens everything to an end. A man is born, grows up, is crowned with success, encounter his fortune, and dies.  Mowed down by time.  But the poet writes that in spite of time his verse (his literary work) shall stand for ever and never be destroyed by the lapse of time.



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