Sonnet LX – Edmund Spenser

THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild, 

To euery planet point his sundry yeare: 

in which her circles voyage is fulfild, 

as Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare 

So since the winged God his planet cleare, 

began in me to moue, one yeare is spent: 

the which doth longer vnto me appeare, 

then al those fourty which my life outwent. 

Then by that count, which louers books inuent, 

the spheare of Cupid fourty yeares containes: 

which I haue wasted in long languishment, 

that seemd the longer for my greater paines. 

But let me loues fayre Planet short her wayes 

this yeare ensuing, or else short my dayes.

Sonnet Lx – William Shakespeare

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 do contend. 

Nativity, once in the main of light, 

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d, 

Crooked elipses ‘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 nature’s 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.