Sonnet

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progress to eternity

These offices, so oft as thou wilt look
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book