Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad
mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty
hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O! how
shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege
of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor
gates of steel so strong but Time decays? O fearful meditation!
where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his
spoil of beauty can forbid? O! none, unless this miracle have
might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright. The
theme of mortality is continued, with the same items of earthly
longevity and stability quoted as in the preceding sonnet -
brass, stone (towers), earth, and the all hungry but mortal
ocean. Their stability is mere sham and their strength a
complete illusion. How, in all this wasteful ruin, may such a
fragile thing as beauty survive? It seems indeed to be an
impossibility. Yet there is one