Sonnet 11

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st

In one of thine, from that which thou departest,

And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st

Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.

Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase;

Without this, folly, age and cold decay.

If all were minded so, the times should cease,

And threescore year would make the world away.

Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,

Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish.

Look, whom she best endow’d she gave the more,

Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.

She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby

Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

As fast as you’ll age, that fast you’ll keep growing

In the good works you leave before you depart.

In the spirit of youth, the seeds you’ll be sowing

Will produce generations of fruit.

Here is the vine of wisdom, beauty, victory

Over age, evil, and decay. Without this,

All would be for nothing, empty,

Lost, loveless.

Let those in whom humanity can find no solace

Perish, harsh, wintery, barren.

But you have been graced by kindness, not malice,

A present forever to open.

Love wove her compassion into your nature,

A torch to carry and hand off to the future.