Shakespeare's Sonnet 115

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,Even those that said I could not love you dearer:Yet then my judgement knew no reason whyMy most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.But reckoning Time, whose million’d accidentsCreep in ’twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents,Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;Alas! why fearing of Time’s tyranny,Might I not then say, ‘Now I love you best,’When I was certain o’er incertainty,Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?Love is a babe, then might I not say so,To give full growth to that which still doth grow?

The lines I wrote before were lies, even those that said I could not love you more dearly. Yet at the time my judgment saw no reason why my love, already burning at its fullest, should later burn more brightly. But Time keeps count, and its countless accidents creep between promises, change kings’ decrees, weather sacred beauty, dull the sharpest intentions, and turn strong minds toward the course of changing events. Sadly, fearing Time’s tyranny, why could I not have said then, “Now I love you most,” when I felt certain despite uncertainty, crowning the present and doubting everything to come? Love is a child, so could I not have spoken that way, treating as fully grown something that is still growing?