All kings  and all their favourites  All glory of honours  beauties  wits  The sun itself  which makes time  as they pass  Is elder by a year now than it was When thou and I first one another saw. All other things to their destruction draw  Only our love hath no decay  This no to-morrow hath  nor yesterday  Running it never runs from us away  But truly keeps his first  last  everlasting day.
John Donne
true, love