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Shakespeare's Sonnet CVIII / CLIV
01 : What's in the brain, that ink may character,
02 : Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit?
03 : What's new to speak, what now to register,
04 : That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
05 : Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
06 : I must each day say o'er the very same;
07 : Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
08 : Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
09 : So that eternal love in love's fresh case,
10 : Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
11 : Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
12 : But makes antiquity for aye his page;
13 : Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
14 : Where time and outward form would show it dead.