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Samuel Daniel - Sonnet XXXIX: Look, Delia
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Look, Delia, how we `steem the half-blown Rose, 
The image of thy blush and Summer`s honor, 
Whilst in her tender green she doth enclose 
That pure sweet Beauty Time bestows upon her. 
No sooner spreads her glory in the air, 
But straight her full-blown pride is in declining; 
She then is scorn`d that late adorn`d the Fair; 
So clouds thy beauty after fairest shining. 
No April can revive thy wither`d flowers, 
Whose blooming grace adorns thy glory now; 
Swift speedy Time, feather`d with flying hours, 
Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. 
O let not then such riches waste in vain, 
But love whilst that thou mayst be lov`d again.
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